


The Telepath War

by vjs2259



Series: Lennier/Ivanova [2]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/M, Post-Season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-02
Updated: 2008-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 72,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vjs2259/pseuds/vjs2259
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Telepath War is set between ‘Objects at Rest’ and ‘Sleeping in Light’, beginning ten years after the founding of the Interstellar Alliance. AU-- in this story, Susan Ivanova spent only 10 years as a starship captain exploring the Rim. When she was 'promoted' to a desk job at EarthForce headquarters, she resigned and accepted an alternative offer to head the Rangers for the IA.</p><p>The beginning of Lennier and Ivanova's relationship is chronicled in New Beginnings. This is however, another story, about Lyta Alexander's quest to obtain a homeworld for telepaths of all races. And the beginnings of the Telepath War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Collateral Damage

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Lennier/Ivanova AU, set in 2273, this portion rated G. Later sections go up to R, mostly for violence/
> 
> Some Minbari phrases and titles from the Earth-Minbari dictionary, assembled by John Hightower.

_  
Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words.  
_

 

The Telepath War, Part I: Collateral Damage

 

They lay in rows on narrow cots, male and female, middle-aged and older. The room was pleasantly bright, with long low windows letting in the early morning sunlight. A few were open, the crisp sheer curtains fluttering in the gentle breeze. The only sounds were of soft breathing, an occasional cough, and the rustling of robes as some of the patients stirred restlessly in their sleep.

By the side of one bed, a young Minbari female sat upright in a straight backed chair. She was deep in meditation, awaiting her father’s awakening. She’d traveled a long way the previous day, and had petitioned to be let in early, so as not to miss a moment of her visit. It had been four months since she had been able to come to the facility, and she had felt the absence of her previously regular visits. She missed her father. When he had come back from the war, he had been well for a while: able to take up his work, and re-connect with his family and his clan. After about six years, disturbing symptoms had appeared. He had dreams; dreams of screaming ships and black shadows, from which he awakened trembling, and drenched with sweat. Eventually the dreams began to penetrate his waking life; and he saw the Enemy everywhere. He could not bear a room without light, for they lurked in the darkness. He could not bear even candle light, for they lingered in the dark corners. Light had become his only friend, but also his enemy. For there are no shadows without the light.

The room brightened further as the sun crept into the room over the windowsills. Although the breeze was cool, it promised to be a warm day, atypical for this time of year. Marthenn came swimming up through her trance, and watched the dust motes dance in the sunbeams with quiet appreciation. Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room changed, becoming charged with tension. Eyes flew open as every patient awakened at once. She looked around, wondering if this was normal for telepaths who lived in close proximity. They stared into the space above their heads, or at each other; their expressions spoke of both hope and horror. Then they began, all at once, to whisper; soft mutterings she couldn’t quite hear. Looking back at her father, she saw his eyes fixed on her face, though she didn’t think he really knew it was her. He spoke, and she leaned over to catch his low words.

“She’s coming. She’s coming. She’s coming.” He said it over and over, like a mantra. She looked around the room, and as the voices grew louder, she realized in horror that they all were saying the same thing. “She’s coming. She’s coming. She’s coming.”

“Who?” she asked her father urgently, “Who is coming?” She took hold of one shoulder and gently shook him, trying to snap him out of whatever was possessing his troubled mind.

For a moment, his eyes focused on her, and he seemed to recognize her. He grasped her hand, and said, “She fought them. She knew them.”

Marthenn said again, “Who is she? When is she coming?”

His eyes darted back and forth frantically for a moment, as if searching the room for someone. “She will help. She remembers.” Then, he raised up in bed, and gripping his daughter’s shoulders, and spoke directly to her. “Find Entil’zha. He will bring her to us. Find him, Marthenn!” He slumped forward, and she lowered him back down with difficulty. The others had stopped their incantation, and were beginning to wake up normally. None of them seemed to remember what had happened. Marthenn looked down at her father, who was smiling up at her.

“How long have you been here, daughter? Can you stay a while?”

Marthenn smiled back absently, and responded in kind. All the while she was thinking and planning how she was going to get to Tuzanoor. She had to speak with Entil’zha. Her father had made a request, and if she could honor it, she would. She would find John Sheridan, and find out who was coming, and what they could do to help her father and the other telepathic veterans of the Shadow War.

 

Susan Ivanova had an early meeting with the head of Ranger combat training on Tuzanoor. She was on her way back to her office when she saw President Delenn walking ahead of her, on her own way to her office. After exchanging affectionate greetings, Susan asked, “What do you have on tap for today?”

Delenn looked quizzical at the unusual turn of phrase, but responded, “The usual. Meetings, then a break for more meetings, followed, for variety, by some meetings. Nothing seemingly worth getting out of bed for; but all necessary, or so I am assured.”

Susan laughed, “My day is much the same. I hope to get out to the training grounds to observe the denn’bok sessions. I’m told we have some very promising recruits this year.”

“Will John be supervising the training? I would appreciate your opinion on something.” Delenn looked worried, and Susan paused, taking her aside, out of earshot of her Ranger guards.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

Delenn shook her head, “Not that I can pinpoint. He has been having headaches, I know, and refuses to see the healers again. He simply says that there is nothing they can do.”

“How can he know that until he lets them try?” Susan expostulated. “Stubborn man…anything else going on?”

“The dreams,” Delenn added reluctantly. “Terrible dreams, shadows of Shadows. I am concerned, Susan. He is so tired lately, and the interrupted sleep is not helping.”

Susan nodded, and said reassuringly, “I’ll convince him to come to the training session with me. Maybe I can get something out of him. He hates to worry you, you know.”

Delenn smiled wryly, “He never seems to learn that I find his attempts to not worry me extremely worrying.” Then she smiled and gestured for them to continue walking. “When is Lennier due back from his mission?”

“Not for a while yet,” Susan said, “He’s stopping off to visit Vir, and didn’t say how long he’d be.”

“Does that not bother you?” asked Delenn, who hadn’t spent more than a handful of days separated from John since they took up their roles as leaders of the Alliance.

Susan smiled, “Not really. I think we’re still getting used to being together. We’ve both lived alone for so many years that it’s good to have our time apart. Besides, we are both terrifically busy.” She almost laughed at the concerned look on Delenn’s face, “We’re okay, really! I miss him, and I’m sure he misses me, but we also enjoy being on our own. That’s all.”

“If you are sure. I could order him back for you, if you like.” Delenn’s eyes were dancing as she teased her friend.

“If he stays away too long, I’ll take you up on that!” They had reached Delenn’s offices, and Susan stopped at the doorway. “I’ll go see what John’s up to now, and talk him into coming out with me this afternoon, all right?”

Delenn touched her arm in gratitude, and bowed her head slightly, “I would appreciate that. Let me know if you think there is anything I can do.”

“Of course,” Susan bowed slightly in return, then turned and walked on towards John’s office, further down the hallway.

Delenn watched her go, her brow still slightly furrowed with anxiety. Then she turned and entered the anteroom, going straight past the opening to the waiting room on the left, pausing only slightly to greet the Minbari seated outside her inner office.

“Good morning. Would you be so kind as to bring me some tea? I would like to go over the files on the new applicants for Alliance membership before we get started…”

The aide interrupted her, “Apologies, Madam President. You have a visitor. She would not give her name, saying only that she was an old friend, and that you would see her. She is waiting in the anteroom.”

Delenn looked at her in surprise. It was not like her aide to allow anyone to wait inside the office area without being identified; especially not since the spate of attacks in recent years. All of their administrative staff were either Rangers, or had undergone training in defensive combat techniques; Susan had insisted on it. Warily, she turned back and approached the archway leading to the waiting area. Inside she caught a glimpse from the back, of a slender woman with shoulder-length red hair. For just a moment, she felt a moment of sick recognition that made her feel as if she were falling; but as the vertigo passed, she recognized the figure.

“Lyta?” she said, advancing towards her friend with outstretched hands. “When did you get here? Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?”

Lyta Alexander turned from the statuary she had been examining, and smiled. “Delenn! It is good to see you again.”

As the two women briefly embraced, Delenn’s mind flew back to the last time she had seen the telepath. It had been shortly before she left Babylon 5 with G’Kar, on their mutual voyage of outer exploration and inner discovery, and after the horrible deaths of Byron and his followers. She had visited Lyta in her quarters, to offer her condolences, and what support she could in that terrible time. Lyta had been unable, or unwilling, to hear her then. Perhaps she could mend some of that rift now.

“Come inside, and have some tea. I have a short while before my first official duties of the day. Will you be here long? We had heard of your return, first from Lennier, and also from G’Kar on his last visit.” She gestured Lyta ahead of her into the office, and after seating her on a small couch in front of a stone alcove in the wall, sat next to her. The alcove was filled with candles, ranging from a few inches to two feet tall, which were faintly scented with a Minbari herb that was reminiscent of cinnamon and lemon combined. They sat in silence while the aide bustled in, bringing a silvery tray, laden with a ceramic teapot and delicate white cups that held a flush of pink color inside. The aide laid the tray on a low table in front of the couch, and lit the candles. Delenn occupied herself pouring out the tea.

The tea was yellow and Lyta thought it smelled like sun-warmed grass. She took the cup and bowed her head towards her hostess, then held it up briefly in offering to Valen. She had been among many cultures by now, and appreciated the differences she had found. Her mission, however, had been to explore the similarities: to identify and contact her own people, who were scattered among the races of the Universe. The Vorlons had modified her to carry their energy, and also expanded her telepathic abilities so that she could walk comfortably in the minds of all the races. Telepaths of those races were even more accessible to her, and she had found her life’s work in contacting her brothers and sisters; letting them know how they had come to be, and what more they could be, if they were allowed. Now, finally, she was ready to act; ready to free her own immediate family from their bondage, and, in the process, to eliminate her enemies. She smiled grimly as she sipped her tea. She wanted the Alliance’s help, or to be more precise, their pledge to not interfere in her plans. Delenn had always been favorably disposed to the telepaths’ quest to find their place in the Universe, so she was starting with her. Minbari telepaths were allowed to live freely among the non-gifted; pledged to a code of conduct, and trusted to abide by it. It was one of the more enlightened worlds in her opinion; not like her home system. No, Delenn would at least hear her out. It was Sheridan of whom she was unsure, and from what she had heard; their decisions were joint ones. She would have to tread carefully there. They had not parted on good terms.

 

Marthenn sat anxiously in the outer office of Entil’zha John Sheridan, spiritual head of the Anla’shok, the man who had won the Shadow War, and also the heart of Delenn, chosen of Dukhat; she who had undergone the transformation a’Valensha, and broken and reformed the Grey Council. She felt that she was petitioning legends, and only her desperation and her love for her father kept her in her seat. She spent the time alternately trying to meditate to calm herself, and praying to her clan’s ancestors for guidance. Although she sat motionless and superficially still, her agitation was betrayed by her hands. She nervously clenched and unclenched them, trying to hide their restless unquiet.

“You may come in now.”

The voice sounded unnaturally loud, although she was sure the Minbari aide wasn’t shouting at her. Rising on trembling legs, she followed Sathenn into the inner office, where Entil’zha was seated behind a desk. Sathenn guided her to a straight-backed chair directly across from Sheridan, and indicated she should take a seat. She looked at the Minbari in mute terror, and was nonplussed to see him wink at her. She heard what sounded like a muffled laugh, and turned to see John Sheridan trying to compose his face.

“Sathenn, would you bring my guest and myself some tea? I think Secha…Marthenn, was it? She might appreciate the garjin blend. My wife says it is very calming.”

Marthenn started to tremble again as she realized that he was referring to Delenn herself. Then she took hold of her courage, and said, “Entil’zha, my errand is urgent. May I speak?”

John nodded at Sathenn to indicate he should retreat. Sathenn bowed and retreated, closing the door behind him. John leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him, and said gently, “How may I be of service, Marthenn? Your message said this involved the Shadow War? You are young to remember that period.”

Encouraged by John’s gentle questioning, Marthenn began her story. As she related what had happened in the rehabilitation facility, she noticed the man in front of her began to rub one temple as if in pain. He winced at her account of her father’s degeneration, and seemed surprised at her description of the number of patients in the facility and their mental state.

Abruptly standing up, he approached Marthenn’s chair, and said, “Come with me, I need to find out more about this. Let’s go talk with Delenn.” He indicated she should follow him, and strode down the corridor, with swift sure strides.

John was not sure what to think about what Marthenn had told him. Her tale of the psychically damaged veterans of the war made him incredibly angry. He had no idea they were languishing in group housing, taken care of, but not being treated for their condition. In fairness, there might not be any treatment, but by God, someone should be trying to find one. He had started at a slow burn, but was becoming angrier as he walked the short distance down the corridor to his wife’s offices. His head was starting to pound again also. The damn headaches were getting worse, and if Delenn had any idea how bad they were, she would have physically dragged him to the healers herself. As for Marthenn’s story about the mysterious ‘she’ who was coming to deliver them-- he was inclined to discount that as some form of group hallucination. He supposed telepaths suffering mental illness might transfer images one to another. There was still a lot about telepathy that was not understood…not on Earth, and not on Minbar.

He swept into the Presidential offices, nodding to Delenn’s aide, who stood at his approach. The aide looked curiously at the small Minbari female trailing behind Entil’zha, barely keeping up with him. She started to tell Sheridan that Delenn was engaged, but reconsidered when she caught sight of his face. Reassuring herself that Delenn would not mind an interruption of what seemed to be a social call, she held the door for the human and his companion, then closed it behind them. She then went to make herself a cup of tea; it had already been an exhausting morning.

John paused just inside the door, realizing that Delenn had someone with her, a human woman, sitting with her back to him. As he came closer, the other woman stiffened as if aware he was there, then stood and turned to greet him with a slight bow. He stood in shock at the sight of the slim telepath facing him. “Lyta? What are you doing here?”

Delenn rose and went to her husband’s side, “Lyta has come to ask us a favor. I thought perhaps we could discuss it over dinner this evening.”

John looked from one to the other, wondering what he was in for; then, remembering his companion, gestured to her to come forward. “This is Marthenn. She has come with a request for help, and…”

Marthenn interrupted him, and pointing to Lyta, asked in a tremulous voice. “Is she the one? The one foretold?” Then, approaching Lyta, she bowed deeply, and asked, “Will you help my father and the others? It would be a great service, and you would have our gratitude, and that of our clan.”

Lyta looked compassionately at the girl, and asked, “Is your father a telepath? Can you tell me what is wrong with him?”

“He sees shadows, Su’zha, shadows of the war. They are in his mind, and he cannot banish them. He, and the others, spoke of one who was coming. One who had fought, who would remember, and who could help. Are you that one, Su’zha? Will you help them?” answered Marthenn hopefully.

Lyta looked from John to Delenn, her eyes thoughtful, then answered Marthenn directly. “I will do what I can. I promise you that. There are other matters I must discuss first, matters that involve the Alliance. After that, I will do my best to help your father, as I would any telepath in pain or distress. Can you wait a day or so, and guide me?”

“I will, Su’zha. And thank you. I have left my contact information with Sathenn. You can reach me through him. Thank you.” Then she turned to John and said in awe, “You have led me to her, Entil’zha. You also have my gratitude.”

John led Marthenn to the door, and indicated to Delenn’s aide that she should be escorted out of the facility. Returning to the office, he asked Lyta bluntly, “What do you know about this? What’s wrong with those people?”

“They have been touched by shadow, President Sheridan. Isn’t it obvious? What do you imagine happened to the telepaths you used to block the Shadows’ attacks—when they reached into the twisted tortured minds of the Shadow ships’ control units? Touching that darkness changes you, especially if they reach back, deep into your mind.” She paused, and her eyes narrowed, “But you know that, don’t you?”

Delenn watched her husband’s eyes widen, and then realization washed over her as she spoke directly to him, “That is what you have been seeing in your dreams, is it not?” Her voice was tinted with unspoken fear. “Does this explain the headaches as well? Or is that something else?”

John put one arm around her, and said softly, “I’m all right. Let’s deal with one problem at a time.”

Lyta looked at Delenn, and said to her, “He’s wrong, you know. We were all affected; it just changes some more than others. Do you know anything about these Minbari telepaths?”

John glanced at Delenn accusingly, “No, I don’t. Marthenn told me a tale of people warehoused in hospitals, left to slowly get worse, with no one able to help them. Did you know about this?”

Delenn looked upset, and said, “The Rangers who fought in the war were taken to their own facilities, and any who later needed assistance were cared for in Alliance hospitals. Few of them were telepaths, however. Those of the religious and worker caste who followed us into the war returned to their clans, and the clan leaders are responsible for their care. There have been no requests for assistance; either from the clans or from the Grey Council. I have not been informed of these ‘warehouses’ as you call them. Did Marthenn say how many there were; give their locations?”

“She said there were half a dozen or so. She left the information with Sathenn.” John ran his hand through his hair, and said in a voice tinged with equal amounts of anger and anguish. “We have to help them. We owe it to them.”

Delenn touched him on the arm and replied simply, “We will do what we can.” Turning to Lyta, she said, “Come for dinner this evening, and we will discuss your proposition. Then we can decide what can be done for our telepaths. We would appreciate any help you can give us.”

 

Susan had gotten the message that John could not join her on the training field, and also the request that she come to the residence that evening to attend a meeting with Lyta Alexander. _Telepaths_ , she thought to herself. _Why’d it have to be telepaths?_ Things had been going so well lately, too. She forced her attention back to the trainees in front of her. There were four groups on the field, working in groups of three; two trainees with one instructor. As she watched, the groups ran quickly through the stylized opening movements of the shon’ka, moving together as if performing a choreographed dance. Then each instructor pointed to one trainee in their group, and began the opening feints, aimed at determining weak points in the trainee’s defensive posture. She walked about, moving from one group to another, assessing both the trainees’ aptitude for the weapon, and the instructors’ methods. Pausing at one group, she noticed that the trainee, a dark-haired human female, had her instructor working hard to stay in control of the lesson. Tilting her head towards the other trainee in the group, she asked, “Who is that?”

Sterren, a Minbari cadet, replied, “Her name is Maeve Callahan. Second year. Retired EarthForce.”

“Really,” said Susan with interest. “How did I miss her name crossing my desk? Do you know where she was stationed?”

“I believe she was last assigned to one of your colony worlds…Orion 7, I think. Look, she’s using the ne’khari!”

Susan shifted her gaze back in time to see Ventarr, the Minbari instructor, stagger and fall to one knee, Callahan’s weapon pointed at his throat. Then, in a move too swift to follow, he rose, striking upwards at the same time, and the trainee’s pike was flying across the field towards Susan’s head. Sterren quickly extended his denn’bok, placing it in front of Susan and deflecting the weapon so that it only hit a glancing blow.

“Ow!” she said involuntarily, her hand rubbing her shoulder, “That’s going to leave a mark!” The others on the field gathered around her, while both Callahan and Ventarr offered their apologies. The Earth woman waited impatiently, while Susan assured everyone she was all right.

Finally, Callahan turned to Ventarr, and demanded, “What was that last move? I thought the ne’khari had no defense!”

Ventarr smiled, “There is always a defense, although not always a successful one. What is your Earth saying? ‘Necessity is the mother of invention’? You have inspired invention, Cadet, and I thank you for the opportunity to learn.”

Callahan bowed, unable to repress a triumphal grin, “Will you teach me?”

He said wryly, “As soon as I have determined what exactly I did, I will.” Turning to Susan, he asked, “May we return to our session, Anla’Shok Na? Are you in need of a healer?”

Susan shook her head, and said, “No, resume your training. I have to get back to headquarters. I would be interested in learning that move, Ventarr. Let me know when you have time to go over it with me. Nicely done, Callahan.”

Ventarr bowed in farewell, then said, “Come, Sterren. Your turn now.”

They resumed their positions on the field, as Susan made her way back to the nearby building. There were extensive grounds and gardens around the IA headquarters and the Ranger Academy. In accordance with Minbari design, the training fields, although functional, were also positioned so as to provide breath-taking views, and allow for simple, yet elegant landscaping. Susan paused for a moment at the entrance to the nearest building, and on a whim, turned into a walled enclosure on her left. Inside the stone walls was a manicured square of lawn, inset with a pattern of red and grey brick-like stones, laid flush with the surface. The stones were laid in a concentric pattern; a red path set on a grey background. If you walked carefully along the line laid out by the red stones, you would double back again and again, but eventually you would find yourself in the center, where there was a stone bench in front of a small fountain. The Minbari renna'tee was similar to Earth two-dimensional labyrinths, and both races found the patterned walkways conducive to meditation and decision-making. Walking the path was supposed to calm the mind, and allow one to see possibilities more clearly. Susan felt the need of some calming; as the near miss on the field, her growing concern over John’s health, and the upcoming meeting with Lyta all had her on edge.

She paced along the path, trying to slow her steps and not succeeding very well. Her mind kept wandering here and there, picking at one worry after another. Whatever Lyta wanted was likely to prove difficult. She’d never completely trusted the woman; she was a telepath, after all; but Lyta had worked with them side by side during the war, and deserved to be heard. Not having been around when the whole telepath mess blew up on the station, she didn’t have the bad feeling that John seemed to have about her. Though from what she’d heard, the lady was plenty dangerous.

She wished Lennier was back. Telling Delenn she didn’t mind his frequent trips off-world had been the simple truth, but whenever things got tense, she found herself wanting his steady presence at her back. This job was demanding; one situation, one problem, one crisis after another, and never much time in between to wind down. She’d found his habit of calm acceptance to be very restful. Pausing under the whip-thin branches of the pullar tree, she thought to herself that the Minbari were like that delicate specimen. The finely cut leaves and long branches resonated in the wind. However hard they were blown about, the tree remained firmly seated; rooted as deeply in the ground as the Minbari were in their traditions. She almost laughed out loud at her poetic turn of thought. If she continued the analogy, she’d probably cast herself as the North Wind, harsh and relentless, constantly trying to whip them into shape.

Stopping short, she realized that was part of what was worrying her. She’d only been leading the Rangers for two short years, and those years had been eventful ones. The Rangers were a peculiar institution, part military force, part intelligence corps, and part religious cult. It was true that Delenn and John had spent the last thirteen years working to convert them from their original intelligence and surveillance mission into first, a military, and then a peace-keeping force. It hadn't been easy, and the spiritual and religious overtones were still strong. All the races that joined were still required to learn Minbari, and now English had been added as a requirement as well. She was still struggling with her attempts to learn Adronato, but with her eidetic memory, and the impetus of living on Minbar, it was coming along quickly. Sometimes it felt like she was trying to hold two, or three, completely disparate groups together. She worried, too, what would happen when John finally left them. The Anla'Shok had transferred their loyalties from Jeff to Delenn to John without any trouble. John had achieved mythic status during the Shadow War, and it hadn't hurt when he had married Delenn after the Earth civil war. The Rangers had little problem with that relationship, even though it had taken time for the majority of the Minbari to accept them. There were still significant pockets of the culture which had issues with the incursion of other species into the Anla'Shok and into Minbari culture in general.

The Rangers were a fluid group, shifting hierarchies and command structure in response to the needs of the mission. As the corps had grown in size and responsibility, this had caused some problems. Still, she figured a static and hidebound bureaucracy, like that running Minbar or Earth, or to be honest, EarthForce itself at this point, wouldn't work with this group either. She had to find a middle way, and her own way, since she was now in charge. John was handling most of the duties regarding training and recruitment; leaving her to cover logistics and operations. Delenn, as President of the Alliance, determined strategy, although it was usually decided among the three of them. So far there had been no problems with this structure; but she wasn't sure what either John or Delenn had planned as the twenty years wore on. Suddenly, she realized she had reached the center of the labyrinth. Sitting on the bench, she stretched, feeling the bruised area on her shoulder twinge as she rotated her arm behind her back. It was almost time to join the others, and find out what Lyta had in mind. Walking the path had helped codify some of her concerns, which was good. Now all she had to do was find some solutions. She wished Lennier was there.

 

When Delenn arrived home, she heard the welcome sounds of deep laughter interspersed with the high-pitched giggles of a ten year old coming from her son's bedroom. She put down her files and folders on the small table inside the doorway, thanked her Ranger escort, and closed the door on her workday, at least for a while. Walking over to the doorway to David's room, she stood unobserved, watching her husband describing a Pak'mara state dinner, complete with imitations of their eating noises and re-telling of jokes centered on food, which the Pak'ma’ra always enjoyed. David was literally rolling on his bed with laughter, and suggesting additions typical of his level of humor. She shook her head; she would never get used to how boisterous humans were. A Minbari child would probably be sitting sedately, working diligently on some project, in their home after a long day. Of course, at David's age, a Minbari would have been sent away to school by now. She herself had been, but her father had followed to stay near to her. They had always been close, at least until the war. He had seemed very pleased at her devotion to her studies. Then again, she had been known to occasionally slip out of her more boring lectures, and head either to the library to study on her own or outside to escape into the gardens. She wondered if her father had ever known that.

Like a warm glow from the setting sun's rays, she felt her husband's gaze on her. David was still chuckling as he righted himself with one fluid motion, and came over and hugged her tightly. Almost able to look her in the eyes; he was going to be as tall as his father. John smiled his crooked grin at the sight, and came around to surround them both in his arms. For a moment, she thought that this was perfect; a moment of perfect happiness. Then, as she accepted a welcoming kiss, she reconsidered. Her life with John and David had been a series of these moments, stretching behind her like links in a chain.

David ended the moment by interjecting, "You're squishing me, Dad!" Disentangling himself, he headed for the living room, asking over his shoulder, "Is it time to go yet?"

"Go where?" Delenn asked, pulling her husband back towards her as he began to move away, "You may continue to 'squish' me! Where is he going?"

John draped one arm over his wife's shoulder and walked with her towards the living area, following the noise made by David, as he volubly let everyone in earshot know he was looking for something. "He sounds like three boys, doesn't he? Too bad he didn't come with a volume control." He laughed at the patient expression on Delenn's face, "Heard that one before, huh? He's going over to the Ranger Academy mess for dinner. Adrian will be by to pick him up shortly; I called him earlier."

"But why?...Oh, yes, Lyta and Susan will be here soon," replied Delenn.

"Didn't think we needed an underage audience for that discussion. Besides, he loves going over there," said John.

"They spoil him," said Delenn disapprovingly. "They treat him like a young cadet. It is inappropriate, and he will grow to expect special treatment."

"He will not. He gets plenty of discipline at home, and they treat him like himself. It can be somewhat isolating here.”

Delenn looked thoughtful for a moment, then asked, “Do you think I am too strict with him then?”

“No way! Any child who is as loved as he is can survive a little discipline. He needs it; he’s a lot like me at that age. Didn’t hurt me any. It helps a child to know the rules. We’re not his friends, we’re his parents.”

Delenn absently considered her husband as a child for a moment. He would have been adorable, she was sure. Pulling her attention back to the present, she went on. “He has few friends of his own age. I have been wary of exposing him to general Minbari society. I was afraid he would be looked upon as a freak of nature, or some sort of symbol, rather than as the child he is.”

John gave her a swift hug, “He is who he is, and he’ll have to deal with that. With you in his corner, he won’t lack for support.”

“That is true,” replied Delenn, with a glint in her eye. “He has a formidable father as well.”

John grinned, “That’s all right then.” The door chimed, and he left his wife to deal with his son, and went to greet Ranger Adrian. After a welter of good-byes, and instructions, and hugs, the Ranger left with his charge excitedly showing him his newest electronic gadget, a handheld holo-display comparing all the latest flyers.

The next chime was dinner being delivered. Delenn had ordered the meal since neither she nor John had time to prepare anything themselves. Next Susan arrived, and she was regaling them with the tale of her near-miss at decapitation that afternoon when the chime sounded one more time. They all reacted differently, knowing it was Lyta at the door. Susan was instantly wary, and wondering what she would do if the telepath made some sort of hostile move. She’d come armed, which was not her usual practice at the Sheridans’ dinner parties, but better safe than sorry.

Delenn was calm and expectant; partly happy at this unexpected reunion with someone from the old days on the station, partly apprehensive about what Lyta wanted from them. She counted Lyta as a friend, if not always an ally; and had no qualms about hearing her request.

John was uncertain how he felt; angry at the situation Marthenn had revealed to him that morning, as well as suspicious of Lyta’s motives in coming to Minbar and what favor she planned to ask of them. Underlying those emotions were others he was reluctant to examine: fear, and guilt. Every run-in he’d ever had with a telepath had ended badly; from his debriefing at the hands of Psi Corp after the Black Star’s destruction to the horrifying end of Byron’s group. Just thinking about Psi Corps’ involvement in the death of Talia Winters and the mind-rape of Michael Garibaldi made him clench his fists and look for something to punch. Lyta had once been an ally, but her allegiance became suspect after her actions at Z’ha’dum, and especially after her backing of the sporadic acts of terrorism following Byron’s death. Those acts had slowed, but never completely stopped, in the intervening years. He didn’t trust telepaths; he worked with them, used them when necessary, understood their grievances; but he didn’t trust them. There was also her association with the Vorlons. He’d liked Kosh, never understood him, but liked him. Lyta had been changed by the Vorlons, though, and continued to work for them after Kosh’s death. They’d left her incredibly powerful, and to his mind, also unstable and dangerous. His eyes narrowed as he watched his wife greet the telepath affectionately, and escort her into the room.

Lyta was glad to hear that it had already been decided to postpone the discussion until after the meal. She was gratified at the effort the others made to keep the conversation light, and restrain their obvious curiosity, and in the case of John and Susan, barely concealed apprehension. Susan engaged her with tales of her time spent exploring the Rim, and they discovered they had visited a few of the same places. Try as they might, they couldn't find one place they'd been at the same time, but it made somewhat of a bond between them. The telepath had tried to curtail her expanded abilities, which made casual scanning simple and undetectable, as a courtesy to her hosts. Still, it was impossible to miss, just with her normal sensitivities, the marks of pain and stress on John's face, and the frequent worried glances Delenn shot at him when he wasn't looking. She even caught an exchange of anxious looks between Delenn and Susan when John got up and left the room briefly, rubbing his temples with both hands. Shortly after his return, they retired to the living room, and gathered around the low table laden with tea, coffee, and the usual accompaniments. Delenn joined John on the couch, while Susan sat opposite them on the other one. That left Lyta to take the large chair at one end of the table. Feeling like she was being examined in court, Lyta cautiously took her seat. After serving herself with coffee, and wondering where the Sheridans got their supply of the rare delicacy, she began.

“I did a lot of thinking, while G’Kar and I were out there; thinking about what we are; what I am. I’m a telepath--that’s the salient characteristic most people see when they look at me. I think it defines me in a more basic way than sex, or race, or homeworld…” She paused and glanced over at Susan, wondering how she was taking this, considering what she knew of the other woman's history. Susan looked unimpressed. “I’ve traveled all over, talking to telepaths from a hundred worlds, telling them how they came to be, listening to their stories. There are worlds where telepaths are treated far worse than they are in Psi Corps, believe it or not. Mostly we’re controlled, often from a young age. Sometimes we’re isolated from the non-gifted; where we’re trained in using or suppressing our talents. Other times we’re left to our own devices. Sometimes untrained telepaths are fine; sometimes they go mad or lose themselves in psychosis, unable to block the thoughts surrounding them. We’re treated with drugs, behavior modification, avoidance therapy, physical punishment, even death. The more benign societies, like the Minbari,” she nodded towards Delenn, “view telepathy as a gift to be offered in service to the greater good. This can be limiting for individuals, but for a highly structured culture, telepaths here are allowed a great deal of freedom.”

Susan was shifting on her seat impatiently, “Cut out the lecture, Lyta. We know most of this. What is it you want from the Alliance?”

Delenn looked at Susan disapprovingly, “Let our guest tell her story in her own way.” Turning to Lyta, she added, “What did G’Kar think of all this? He was always interested in developing Narn telepaths.”

Lyta smiled enigmatically, “He’s on his way to that goal, I believe. He has also agreed to help me with my goal.”

“And what is that?” asked John, his voice a little gruff. It was obvious to the others that he still wasn’t feeling well.

Lyta hesitated for a moment; it was crucial that they understand, and if not approve, at least not interfere, with her plans. “G’Kar has consented to give us an abandoned Narn colony world…we plan to use it to establish a homeworld for telepaths of all races. There are people there already, working on getting the main base habitable. More arrive every day.”

Silence fell over the room. John and Delenn both remembered that this had been Byron’s dream. They also remembered how that tragic episode had ended, and PsiCorps’ involvement.

Susan spoke forcefully, her voice laden with sarcasm. “Sounds great. What do you want from us?”

“I am going to present my invitation to the telepaths of Earth in person. I plan to make the announcement at the Psi Corps headquarters on Mars. What I want from you, is your pledge to not get involved in whatever happens.” Lyta remained outwardly calm, but she wished Delenn would say something. She’d expected more sympathy from her.

“Why Mars? Why not Earth?” Susan went on, openly incredulous. “They’ll kill you, you know that. You won’t get to say a word!”

“I have my resources. The PsiCorp complex on Earth is in Geneva. It’s more heavily guarded; harder to even get close. Besides, I know the one on Mars pretty well from my time in the Resistance. I’ll be able to get my message across.”

Delenn said slowly, “Why do you think we would be involved in any case? An invitation to emigration sounds harmless enough. PsiCorps’ influence has been weakened over the years; they will protest, but they may stop at that.”

“And they may not.” Lyta went on, her voice trembling with the force of her emotions. “I want you to look at this as an exercise in self-determination. We want to a home of our own; to be left alone to make our own rules, and laws. I just want to make sure Earth won’t call on the Alliance to enforce what amounts to brainwashing and coercion and essentially slavery!” Her voice had risen with her passionate appeal.

“The Alliance is already pledged to non-interference in members’ internal disputes, Lyta. I don’t see why you feel you need more assurances that we will not get involved,” said John firmly. He wished they could stop this discussion. His head was pounding, and he just wanted to get to sleep.

“Telepaths generate concern and fear, President Sheridan. I wanted to be sure, and I’ll admit, I would also like your support. I don’t see this as being any different from your support for Martian independence.”

“Mars was a long-established colony, and a majority of its people had indicated their preference for self-government. It’s not the same!” expostulated John.

Delenn intervened, “It is not so very different, though, is it? The Earth telepaths have never had many choices available to them, and I gather from what Lyta is saying, the situation is similar on other worlds. If they wish to leave, should they be prevented?”

“We can’t assist them…Earth is an Alliance member!” protested John.

“We can indicate our support, without promising anything more than that. Let us see what the response is, from PsiCorps, and the Earth government. If it is negative, we can issue a supportive statement, perhaps guarantee them safe passage through Minbari space. I think I can arrange that much with the Grey Council,” answered Delenn.

"That would be wonderful, Delenn. Thank you." Lyta smiled warmly at her hostess, then continued. "I've been working towards this for years. I just wanted you all to know what was happening. The Alliance has been a vocal advocate of freedom all these years…"

"And of peace," Delenn added gently.

"And peace, of course," Lyta agreed quickly. "I hope this will happen peacefully, but I have my doubts that PsiCorps will like loosing their grip on what they consider their 'family'." She smiled, grimly this time. "It's a perverse vision of family, in my opinion. I'm not trying to force anyone to do anything, just give my people some options. I want to let them know that they have somewhere to go. What is it they say? 'Home is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in?'"

Susan nodded reluctantly, "It gives them choices, I guess. But you'd be better off nuking Psi Corps and starting over."

Lyta's eyes flashed momentarily, then she said smoothly, "If the place wasn't full of telepaths, most of them there unwittingly or unwillingly, I'd agree with you."

Looking uncomfortable at this turn in the conversation, and deeply aware that John was barely holding it together, Delenn said, "We will leave it at that, then. Lyta, could you meet us here, tomorrow morning? I have arranged transportation to the facility where Marthenn's father is housed. I do not want to lose any time getting help to these people; they do not deserve abandonment."

"Of course," Lyta murmured. She then turned to Susan, and asked curiously, "What is your opinion of all this? As a telepath, I mean?"

Looking at her with barely concealed disdain, Susan answered, "I'm not part of your movement, Lyta. I have zero interest in helping telepaths."

Lyta tried to look sympathetic, but was visibly disturbed, "We have more in common than you would think…"

Susan interrupted fiercely, "We have nothing in common! For what it's worth, I think you'll fail. Part of me hopes you do, except for the part about gutting PsiCorps. You're welcome to try and pull together your little band of teeps, but family's more than a shared quirk of the brain."

Leaning forward and looking hard at Susan, Lyta snapped, “You’ve stayed hidden and escaped most of it, haven’t you? You were never stared at in fear, or disliked on principle, never torn from your family and sent away…”

White-faced with anger, Susan abruptly stood. “My family was ripped apart by PsiCorps! My mother…and Talia…” Her voice thick with tears and rage, she hurriedly said her good-byes and headed towards the door.

Delenn followed, and stopped her just before she left, “Do not blame Lyta, Susan. She is a victim as well.”

“She’s working on being a bloody martyr,” Susan said bitterly. “Just be careful not to get the Alliance too involved in this hare-brained scheme of hers. It won’t work, and it won’t end well. I’ll see you when you get back.” Hastily brushing away her tears, she strode off down the corridor.

 

Susan was too unsettled by the confrontation with Lyta to either settle to work or to go home to her empty quarters, so she wandered the corridors for a while. She noted that she was greeted with caution mixed with awe, and decided Lyta didn’t know the half of being stared at by the public! Deciding some air would be good, she headed out the side door that led to the labyrinth. It was cold and dark, but the sky was filled with stars. Looking upwards, she wondered when she would be able to get back out there, in a ship of her own. To avoid being stuck behind a desk in Geneva, she’d gone to being stuck behind a desk in Tuzanoor. Kicking a few stones from the path into the lush trim grass border, she thought it might have been a case of out of the frying pan into the fire. Then she knelt down and picked up the stones, replacing them on the path. It was probably some worker’s task to go along and pick up errant stones and put them in their proper place. She wouldn’t add to their work. The labyrinth was ahead of her, but to her surprise, she saw that someone was already seated in the center. It was a little cold and late for tourists, and she could see by the flickering lamps on the four corners outlining the pathways, that the stranger wore a Ranger’s robes.

Hesitating for a moment, she let her curiosity set her path, and walked across the circular lines to the center. As she approached, she recognized the woman from the afternoon’s training.

“Callahan, isn’t it?” Her voice sounded a little loud in the stillness.

Maeve jumped, then stood hastily to attention when she saw who it was. “Anla’Shok Na? I mean, yes, my name’s Callahan.”

“Go ahead, sit down. I just wondered who would be walking the labyrinth this time of night.”

Maeve sat back down, and Susan joined her. “I like this place.” When Susan stayed silent, she asked challengingly, “Were you coming to walk it yourself then?”

Susan gave Maeve her best intimidating glare, and was secretly pleased to see the woman just jutted her chin out a little and returned her look steadily. “I was going to, but I thought I’d cut to the center…maybe gain clarity a little more quickly.”

“It doesn’t work that way, does it? I mean, it never does for me. Even the walking doesn’t always do it.”

“So, if it’s not too personal, what are you trying to figure out?”

Maeve sighed, and said, “I guess it’s appropriate to tell you. I’m deciding whether to leave the Rangers. I’m not sure it’s for me.”

Shifting on the cold stone bench, Susan said, “Well, that makes two of us.”

Maeve looked at her in shock. “But you’re Anla’Shok Na! I mean, why would you want to give it up?”

Susan laughed, “I’m not sure I do! It’s difficult, and I miss flying, but it’s important work, and my family is all here.” She wondered why she was unburdening herself to this woman she’d just met, but hurried on, “Sometimes it seems like an impossible task, leading this group. I don’t even understand their motivations. It’s sure not standard military.”

Maeve snorted, “That’s a fact. It’s what attracted me here though. I never managed to fit into EarthForce. Too independent, I suppose--or too bloody-minded.”

Susan laughed, “So why’d you join up? No one held a gun to your head, did they?”

“No, they held a gun to my brother’s head, actually.” Maeve looked away, her expression grim. “I’m from Orion, you know. I joined up in 2260, just after we broke away from Earth.”

“That must have been rough. It was difficult on the station, but after Mars, there wasn’t much else we could do.”

“It was the part before that was difficult.” Maeve shuddered. “I was at the university when all the directives came down. Nightwatch, the Home Guard, we had them all. Ed, that was my brother Edward, he was two years ahead of me in school--he started a protest group, led marches, hung posters, spoke at rallies, that sort of thing. I told him he was crazy; that it would all blow over.”

“What happened?” Susan was fascinated. On the station, they’d heard little or nothing about what went on in the colonies.

“They killed him. Oh, they said he resisted arrest, that it was all legal and aboveboard. But I knew Ed; he was the original pacifist. He’d have done the passive resistance thing, going limp, stuff like that. Nothing aggressive, nothing to deserve being shot. It was at one of his rallies. His friends said some Nightwatch goons drug him off, stuffed him in a ground flyer. We never saw him again. Just an official notice on the com. They wouldn’t even let us have his body to bury.”

“I’m sorry.” Susan sat silent for a moment, considering the different ways there were to fight a war. “When did you join EarthForce?”

“The day after Orion declared independence. My parents were horrified. Ed and I were their only kids. Orion is a sub-optimal colony, so colonists are restricted to replacement breeding. Two parents means two kids, and they’d already lost one.”

“I was stationed there for a while after the Earth-Minbari war. Nice place.”

“It’s okay. Anyway, I was apparently never meant for the military. I’d work my way up, one stripe at a time, then get myself busted.” She added ruefully, “That takes some doing in wartime, too.”

“What happened?”

“I left after about ten years. Seemed like I’d given it a good shot. The war was long over by then. I wandered around for a while, taking in the sights. Then I got the urge to do something with my life, and ended up here.”

Susan sighed, “It’s a strange group. How did you find the training? You’re second year now aren’t you? Almost ready to take your vows?”

Maeve nodded. “That’s the problem. It’s time, and I’m still not sure. The Rangers aren’t like any military I’ve ever heard of; mostly I like it, it’s less structured and a better fit for me. But some aspects…”

“Like what?” Susan asked curiously.

Maeve looked down at the stones and said nothing for a moment.

“This stays between me and you. I have my doubts, as I’ve told you, and I’d appreciate another viewpoint.”

Taking a deep breath, Maeve nodded, then continued, “Well, the Rangers are non-interventionist, right? We’re trained to observe, gather intelligence, and at times to mediate. That’s okay, but the quasi-religious aspects bug me. I suppose meditation is a useful skill, and they’re whizzes at unarmed combat…but really, denn’boks? Traditional weaponry, I suppose, but not really very useful, are they? All the history and the Book of Valen, and having to learn Minbari…it’s weird.”

Susan smiled, but answered slowly, “They’ve adapted over the years though. John and Delenn have worked hard at the transformation to a peace-keeping mission…”

Maeve broke in, “That’s another thing! There’s a not-too subtle veneration of Entil’zha and the President, and even of you! I’ve worked with military types who admired one admiral or another, but not like this! It’s a little scary, frankly. They prize independence of thought and personal initiative, which is great, but then they go all worshipful. ‘I live for the One, I die for the One.’ I’m supposed to recite that when I take my vows. It’s not just graduation from basic training, is it? We took oaths in EarthForce, but that was to uphold the Constitution.”

Susan said thoughtfully, “You’ve put your finger on one thing that’s been bothering me. The Rangers have been around for over a thousand years, built around a cult of personality. They study Valen; they live for ‘the One’. They’ve built up a lot of traditions…” She added after a moment, “But they’ve also proven adaptable. Maybe that’s their strength; the combination of the old ways and the ability to accept new ones.”

Maeve stared straight ahead. “I just wish I could be sure I’m doing the right thing.”

“It’s not like you’re marrying into the Rangers, Callahan! If it doesn’t work out, you can always leave.”

“It’s not that easy. I can’t explain it. I left EarthForce without a backwards glance, but these vows mean something. I can’t take them lightly, and it would be harder to break them.” Maeve’s face was solemn in the flicker of the torches.

Susan thought uncomfortably of Lennier’s departure from the Rangers. His betrayal of his vows had almost broken him, and he was still trying to make amends for what he’d done. He’d never asked to re-join the Anla’Shok. “Then you’d best be sure before you take your vows. I can say, though, that I hope you do.”

“Thank you, Anla’Shok Na.” She looked at her superior questioningly, “How about you? Are you staying?”

Susan smiled, albeit a little sadly, “Yes. I’m staying. The vows I’ve made were to myself, but those are the most important ones of all, and the worst ones to break. I’ll be here to take your pledge, if you decide to make it.” Susan stood up, and crossed her arms across her chest. “Nee’zhalen, Callahan. Good night.” Then she turned and headed back towards the Academy, and her home.

 

The next morning a Ranger arrived at Marthenn’s quarters in her clan-house in the city, and escorted her to Alliance headquarters, where three more Rangers, John, Delenn, and Lyta awaited her. They sat in the center seats of the ground flyer, with two Rangers as pilot and co-pilot, and two more in the rear as guards. Marthenn overcame some of her shyness under Delenn’s gentle questioning and obvious sympathy.

Lyta watched in amusement; she remembered how the Minbari ambassador had always gotten her way as much with honey as with flies. John sat quietly, hands on his knees, watching out the window as the ground sped by under them. Lyta kept an eye on him as well, wondering how much of his physical difficulty came from psychic sources, and whether she would be able to help him. No one had asked her to, of course, and she was of two minds about offering her assistance. She had never quite forgiven him his part in Byron’s death, although she was willing to admit he had begun with good intentions. Also, there was his part in driving her from the station, although, as it turned out, that had been a godsend for her cause. Her journey with G’Kar had not been simply geographical, but spiritual and emotional as well. She had learned much from the Narn, and gained his tentative support for her cause. What she hadn’t told the Sheridans was that G’Kar’s support was somewhat predicated on their approval, or at least, their pledge of non-interference. He would be checking in with them later, but she hoped her plans would be too far advanced for second thoughts by then.

The facility where Marthenn’s father and the other telepaths were housed was only a few hours away. They arrived just before noon, and were whisked into a conference room to meet the administrative head and the medical chief of staff. After exchanging pleasantries, Delenn took the lead and insisted, in her charming and indirect way, on going directly to the ward where Marthenn’s father was housed. The dormitory was almost empty; as most of the patients were enjoying the grounds on an unusually warm day, but there were a few patients left. As the group passed by, each patient’s head turned to stare at Lyta, and a few got up to follow her at a discreet distance. Marthenn sped up and walked swiftly towards her father. Rathenn was seated on the edge of the bed, and embraced his daughter as she leaned over him.

“I’ve brought them, Father. You were right. Entil’zha Sheridan knew who you meant.”

Rathenn got slowly to his feet, and bowed low as the group neared him, “You do me much honor.” He bowed to each of the three, “Entil’zha Sheridan. Delenn.” He turned to Lyta, and said, “Secha, I do not know your name, but we felt your approach. Can you help us? Can you rid us of the shadows?”

Lyta bowed low in return, and replied, “You are of my kind, and I will do my best to help you.” She looked at him with compassion, and gestured for him to lie back down on the bed. Sitting beside him, she laid her hands on either side of his head, fingers on the headbone, and thumbs on the skin above each temple, she closed her eyes and reached inside his mind.

 

 _It was dark, but she could clearly hear the rush of falling water nearby. Groping blindly forward, she stumbled, and fell. The ground was wet and slick, and reaching forward her hands slipped into cool flowing water. Now that her ‘eyes’ had adjusted, she could see dimly that she was kneeling by a streambed. The sound came from a waterfall. Seated further downstream, on a flat grey rock, was Rathenn. Lyta stood, and approached him quietly, trying not to alarm him._

“ _Greetings,” said the old man. His lips didn’t move. They didn’t have to; his voice was all around her and inside her at the same time._

 _She came closer, and put one hand on his shoulder. “So this is the problem?” She pointed downstream to a point where the stream disappeared into black thicket of vines and brambles._

“ _When I follow the path, it leads into shadow. I cannot go around it; I cannot seem to avoid it. When I go there, there is pain and memory and darkness, and I am lost.”_

 _Lyta stared at the obstruction, and noted the scenery around the place, so she could locate it again. She walked towards the darkened area, and heard skittering sounds in the underbrush, then faint echoes of metallic screams. She smiled grimly; she knew the sounds. Pushing her way through the undergrowth, she saw that the stream had other paths it could follow if only the blockage was removed. Nodding approvingly, she back-tracked to where Rathenn was again staring into the stream._

“ _You need to go back, and let me try to fix this.” She said gently._

 _He looked apprehensive, and asked her, “Will it work?”_

“ _It might not.” She looked at him sadly, “It might have other effects. You might lose some memories.”_

“ _Of that time? Or of all time?”_

“ _I don’t know.”_

 _He considered for a moment. “I will take the risk. For my daughter, and for the others.”_

 _Lyta squeezed his hand. The old man rose, and walked towards the waterfall, gradually disappearing in the mist that arose from the cascade and spilled over the banks._

 _Lyta bent to her task._

 

The others watched for a while, but there was really nothing to see. John wandered off to talk to some of the other patients, and listened to their war stories, and told some of his own, although only when pressed. Delenn sat with Marthenn for a while, then approached the medical staff, gathering details of the numbers of patients, and facilities, and what treatments had already been tried. She turned around when she heard a cry from Marthenn, and saw Lyta slumping over onto the floor. She started towards the fallen telepath, when she was distracted by cries of alarm from behind her. John had collapsed as well.

 

A caregiver assisted Marthenn in laying Lyta down on a nearby empty bed. Marthenn hurried back to her father, who was stirring. Lyta sat up, with the nurse's assistance, and looked over at Rathenn. "How is he?" she asked the nurse.

The caregiver looked flustered, "Which one? The patient or Entil'zha Sheridan?"

Lyta's head snapped around to see healers, caregivers, and patients, all milling around a prostrate John Sheridan. As she watched, they lifted him from the floor to a bed, and Delenn sat down beside him, softly repeating his name, trying to call him back.

"Secha?" The question came from Rathenn, who was sitting on the edge of his bed. "You should go to him, Secha."

"How are you feeling?" Lyta said as she stood and came over to take Rathenn's hand.

"My head hurts. What did you do? How will we tell if it worked? I feel different somehow, lighter in some way."

"If there were circumstances that triggered your episodes, we can replicate them, and see if the new pathways have taken hold. I will show you how to guide your thoughts away from the old paths, and onto the new. First, though…" and she looked over at Delenn, who hadn't taken her eyes off of John, "I have to see what's happening; and whether I can help."

 

Delenn was outwardly calm and unconcerned, patiently reassuring the clinic staff and patients, but panic flared in her inmost thoughts. She had known for months, maybe a year or more, that there was something wrong. It had gotten progressively worse, until she managed to convince him to see the healers. They had found nothing wrong. She hoped and prayed that it wasn't a manifestation of an early failure of Lorien's gift. As she continued calling her unconscious husband, and at the same time trying to listen to the advice the healers were offering, she felt a light touch on her shoulder.

"Would you like me to help?" asked Lyta.

Biting back her initial eager assent, Delenn tried to focus on what John would think of her giving Lyta permission to enter his mind.

"I won't go in, Delenn, unless you want me to. I can just amplify your call; the way I did at Z'ha'dum."

The tenor of the room changed in an instant, with the Minbari around them looking startled, then either pulling away or looking grim.

Delenn looked down at John's weary face, and decided for once, to base a decision solely on what she wanted; and what she wanted was her husband. "Go ahead then."

Lyta nodded, and approached the bed, sitting on the opposite side from Delenn. "I'll try not to pry, but you know strong emotions and thoughts may get through. I can't help that."

"I know."

Taking Delenn's hand, Lyta made the connection with her first. The two women stared at each other in silent communion, and then Lyta placed her other hand on John's temple.

“ _Speak to him.”_

Delenn heard Lyta's disembodied voice echo in her mind. _“John? Come back to me. It is not yet your time. We need you here. I need you.”_

Lyta pushed Delenn's voice deep into John's consciousness. Unhappily, she wasn't feeling any response, not even a spark of mental energy from the prostrate man. Delenn's thought patterns were disciplined, but frayed at the edges with worry and fear. Taking a chance, she added her voice separately. _“President Sheridan? You need to wake up. You are upsetting your wife and everyone here.”_ There was still no response. Lyta spoke directly to Delenn through their mental connection. _“I can push your voice deeper, but I may see things he would rather I did not.”_

 _I can't stand it. Not yet. I'm not ready to lose him!_ Chaotic fragments of grief and despair leaked out from around Delenn's controlled response _. “Go ahead.”_

Lyta tried to project confidence at Delenn, and went further into John's mind.

 

“ _Come out! Where are you?”_

 _Ahead of her in the darkness she saw a spark of light. Walking towards it, she could hear music, tonal chanting so deep and resonant that it seemed she could see the vibrations in the air around her. Going further, she saw John sitting, cross-legged, in his old uniform, eyes closed, apparently listening to the bell-like song. Approaching his quietly, she knelt beside him, and gently touched his arm. “President Sheridan? John?”_

 _He opened his eyes, and put one finger on his lips. “Shhh. They’re almost done.”_

 _She sat beside him, and waited patiently. Far off in the distance, she could still hear Delenn’s pleading voice. When the song’s echoes stopped ringing, she spoke again. “Can you hear her calling?”_

“ _Always.”_

“ _Are you coming back?”_

 _He hesitated, then said uncertainly. “I’m not sure I know the way.”_

“ _I can show you.” Rising to her feet, she put out her hand. He looked at it for a moment, then took it and stood beside her._

 

“John?”

He opened his eyes to see Delenn’s face just above his, her green eyes swimming with tears. He reached up to touch her face, and she put her hand over his, pressing it tightly against her, as if trying to anchor him in life.

“I’m all right.” Struggling to a sitting position, he saw that Lyta was sitting on his other side, her head in her hands. A healer was kneeling in front of her, offering her a drink. “How about you, Lyta? Are you all right?”

“I will be. What were you listening to in there?”

“Something Kosh showed me, a very long time ago.”

Lyta nodded, then grimaced as she swallowed the draught offered by the healer. “What is that awful stuff?” she demanded.

“It is designed to replace the electrolytes and sugars used in psychic metabolism. I adjusted the amounts to human biochemistry, but I did not think to flavor it to your tastes.” The healer looked chagrined.

Lyta smiled. “It’s not that bad. In fact, I feel better already. I might have to get the recipe!”

Delenn abruptly broke in, “Perhaps you could escort us to a private room. I believe my husband needs to rest. Lyta, would you accompany us?”

John knew that voice. He allowed two Minbari male caretakers to assist him to his feet, and shot Lyta a look of commiseration. She smiled, before looking down, and discreetly followed the group out of the main room.

 

“What happened to him?” Delenn’s voice was quiet, but her tone made it quite clear she wasn’t leaving the room without answers, and answers to her satisfaction. “Lyta, what did you see?”

Lyta debated briefly trying to put her off, but she felt the deep anxiety underlying the demand, and answered as best she could. “I think he is having the same type of flashbacks as they others, but they are being repelled.”

“How is he able to do that?”

“I’m not doing anything!”

John and Delenn spoke at the same time, and Lyta held up one hand to silence them. “I don’t think it’s conscious resistance. Delenn, have you had any problems with this?”

“No,” she answered firmly.

“You were in mental contact with the Shadows, however, weren’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose I was. At Z’ha’dum, with you and Susan, and at Corianus Six. I am not a telepath, however, and neither is John.”

John interrupted, “Lorien was with us at Corianus Six. I suppose he acted as a buffer of sorts.”

Lyta went on, “I’m sure he did, and that it was needed. Even though you are not telepaths, you were in direct mental contact with both the Shadows and the Vorlons. Kosh gave you both some protection, as he did me. Delenn and I were with him more, though. I think he must have started setting it up with you, and perhaps Lorien finished it. What I can’t figure out is why their efforts are failing you, President Sheridan…and why now.”

“Call me John, Lyta. President Sheridan left office some time ago. What is wrong with the Minbari veterans? Were you able to help Marthenn’s father?”

“I think so. The damage done by his psychic contact with the Shadows had left a break in his neural pathways. Over time, the equivalent of scar tissue built up, and eventually, whenever his mind went that direction, it hit that barrier and went off into the past, into memories of the war. Memories so real, they entered his waking life. I tried to weaken the barrier, and allow the psychic energy to flow around it. We haven’t tested it yet. It may not work, and there may be side effects.”

“What kind of side effects?” asked Delenn.

“Memory loss, possibly catastrophic. He was willing to risk it, if it would help the others.”

They were all silent for a moment, considering this. Delenn said thoughtfully, “The telepath Ranell…he was in your mind, John, was he not?”

John looked at her and said, “The psychic healers poked around afterwards. They said there was no lasting damage.”

Lyta laughed, “It’s hard enough to find where Kosh has been, much less distinguish damage to his delicate maneuvering. That’s probably it…when did your symptoms start?”

“You mean the headaches? About a year ago…” he confessed shamefacedly.

Delenn glared at him, then her face softened, “So long? You should have told me.”

Lyta went doggedly on, “Are there triggers to these headaches? Does something happen…bright lights shining in your eyes, certain sounds, anything in common?”

John shook his head, “Not that I can think of.”

“Hmm.” She was lost in concentration for a moment. “I’d have to go back in to see what’s wrong.” She went on hurriedly as his expression darkened. “Only with your permission. You two discuss it. I have to go over what I did with Rathenn with your healers. I want to see if it worked with him before I try it again.” She hesitated, then went on, “It’s possible there would be memory loss in your case as well. I can’t guarantee anything. This is virgin territory for me.” She tried not to flinch at the look in Delenn’s eyes as she closed the door behind her.

Delenn went over to John and put her arms around him. “I would rather you forget me than spend what is left of your life in pain.” Her eyes darkened. “It might even shorten your lifespan. Please, John, you must let her try.”

He rested his head on top of hers, holding her tight against his chest. “I could never forget you. That just isn’t possible. I’m not sure I want her inside my head. I’m not sure she can be trusted.”

“I believe she can.” Delenn pulled away from him, looking at him consideringly. “Why do you believe she cannot be trusted?”

John ran his fingers through his hair, and sat down in one of the chairs surrounding a table. They had apparently been led to a nearby conference room. “I’ve not had much luck with telepaths in the past.”

“Telepaths in general, or PsiCorps in particular?”

“Mostly PsiCorps, I suppose. But there was Byron and his group, and Lyta herself…”

“Byron was, in his own way, a true seeker, a peaceful man forced to do violence to himself and his followers. Lyta…well, we have no way of knowing whether her actions at Z’ha’dum were leftover dictates of the Vorlons, or her own inclinations. She disliked PsiCorp as much or more than you do.”

“That’s certainly true.” John stood up again and began to pace around the room. “What about the terrorist, the bombs, the attacks after Byron’s death?”

“I do not approve of those, but they were mostly against property, and mostly property linked to or owned by PsiCorps, were they not?” Delenn put out a hand as he walked, and pulled him close. “Consider this. She has known for years about Susan, and her telepathy. Has she ever tried to capitalize on that knowledge? She could have traded the information for power, influence. Susan is beyond PsiCorps’ reach now, but she spent years in EarthForce, where the knowledge would have been detrimental at best. Yet, Lyta did nothing.”

John stared at her for a moment. “EarthForce never had much use for PsiCorps. The military utilized them only when necessary. They still use them, but with more caution after the war. PsiCorps lost a lot of influence when it was revealed how much they had worked with Clark.”

“Still, would Susan have risen as far as she did if her telepathy was known? Lyta was right about the Shadow technology left behind at Z’ha’dum; it would never have been safe with PsiCorps, or with the Earth government. She acted hastily, but in the right way.”

John suddenly smiled. “OK, so you trust her, I get that.” His smile faded as he held her close. “I have to admit, letting her in scares me, and even more the possibility that something could go wrong. She admitted she’s not even sure what she’s doing; what if it doesn’t work? Or it makes things worse?”

“What if you get worse without her intervention? What if..” Her voice choked off as she clung to him even harder than before.

“All right. I’ll try.” He leaned away from her fierce embrace, and said, “It’s on your head if I forget everything I ever knew and you have to do my job as well as yours.”

“I accept the risk.” She squeezed his hand tightly, then went to the door, opened it, and asked the first person she saw passing to request Lyta’s presence when convenient.

 

When Lyta entered the room, the two Sheridans were seated across the table, talking softly to each other. Their heads turned in unison as she entered the room, and she thought she had never seen two people so in tune. Even when they were apart, they somehow seemed a unit.

“Are you ready?” she asked John. “I will try to avoid sensitive areas and stick to where ever I see damage or blockages. It will help if you shield yourself as much as you are able.”

“I’m not a telepath, Lyta. I can’t block you.”

Amused, she said, “Sure you can. Remember back on the station when you and Captain Lochley had me arrested? You snuck up on me. You shouldn’t have been able to do that, even when I was distracted.”

“I’ve never been sure how I did do that! I just knew I could…somehow,” he answered, with a question in his voice.

“I’ll explain it to you later. Let’s get this done.” Lyta pulled out a chair, and set it in front of John’s. She sat down, facing him, and took both his large hands in her slender ones.

 

 _John was walking through a forest of tall trees. Leaves crunched under his feet, and he caught sight of what might have been a squirrel flicking its tail as it dashed behind a tree to his left. The leaves were orange, red, and brown, and lay on the ground like a patchwork quilt among the damp black tree trunks. He looked up, but there was no sky, just the trees jutting into infinity, seeming to come together over his head._

“ _Hello there.”_

 _He started and saw Lyta was standing in front of him._

“ _What is this place?”_

“ _It’s my ‘mental landscape’, for lack of a better term. We all have landscapes inside our heads that are composites of the places we feel most at home. Telepaths learn to access them, and utilize them. I’ve often wondered if Minbari go inside when they meditate. Have you ever asked Delenn what she sees?”_

 _He shook his head. “This is your landscape? Are we in your mind then?”_

“ _Yes. I thought we could start here, then see what’s inside you. I wanted to make sure you were comfortable before we tried it. There are probably some of Kosh’s barriers left…”_

“ _What barriers?”_

 _Lyta smiled. “The Vorlons changed me, in many ways. They also changed you, as well as Delenn. In my case, it was to allow me to carry them without going insane. The process also increased my abilities, and made it possible for me to more easily access the minds of alien beings. They erected some protective barriers as well. That’s how you could sneak up on me in the Zocalo before. I didn’t recognize you as foreign until you got close enough to put a gun to my head.”_

“ _So something’s gone wrong?”_

 _Lyta mused, “They needed to be able to communicate with us, project images into our minds, but they also wanted us to have some protection against the Shadows; so maybe the blocks were incomplete, or maybe yours are broken. Now let’s see what’s going on.”_

 _It was dark, but the sky was the pearly grey it gets just before sunrise. Taking a deep breath, John could smell orange blossoms on the light breeze that blew across his face._

“ _Where are we?” Lyta’s voice was faint, but growing stronger, as if she was approaching from a distance. He peered through the lines of trees, extending as far as he could see in all directions, when he suddenly felt her hand on his shoulder._

“ _Where did you come from?”_

“ _I’ve always been here.”_

 _Echoes of Kosh colored her voice, and John stepped back. “What’s going on?”_

“ _Nothing. Everything. Where does it hurt?”_

 _He look at her uncomprehendingly. “What do you mean?”_

“ _We’re looking for evidence of damage, right? Where the Minbari telepath got in?”_

 _He looked around the orchard and pointed off to the right. “There’s a break in the trees over there.”_

 _Without moving, they were in front of the break. Trees had fallen, and burnt and hewn stumps showed evidence of some problem. Lyta knelt and touched the downed branches, then looked up. “This is the remains of a psychic battle of some kind. Maybe Kosh left you more protection than I thought.”_

 _They walked forward, and saw that some of the trees had lost their leaves, and others had leaves with small raised brown spots. “Citrus canker,” said John, looking closely at the leaves._

“ _Maybe that’s how the Shadow damage is manifesting itself?” Lyta looked around her, confused. “Rathenn’s problem was a diverting of mental energy. When his memory of the war was triggered by a shadow, or a sound, his mind would head down one path, and be trapped in memories indistinguishable from reality. You experienced pain instead.” She went on, frustrated, “This doesn’t make sense. Maybe in your case your mind is fighting back, and the pain is the manifestation of the inner struggle.”_

“ _So what do we do to stop it?”_

“ _How do you fight the disease that’s spotting the leaves? What’s the cure?”_

“ _There’s a nano-vaccine now. There’s hasn’t been an outbreak in years.”  
“Before the vaccine, how did they treat it?”_

 _John looked around him, and answered slowly, “They burned it out; cut down all the infected trees and burned them to stop it spreading.”_

 _Kicking the blackened branches on the ground, Lyta commented, “I guess that’s how you’re being protected.”_

“ _What should we do? Finish the job? Wait for whatever Kosh put in here to do it? I can’t go on like this! I don’t have that long…” he broke off, and walked away for a moment, resting his hand on one of the infected trees. “How is this connected with the attack two years ago?”_

“ _I don’t know. Maybe the defense system was damaged?”_

“ _What can we do?”_

“ _We’ll have to go deeper, and find where the defenses originate. Relax, I’m going to look around.”_

 

The staff at the clinic were hovering outside the door. It had been over two hours, and they didn’t know whether to interrupt what was going on inside. They didn’t even know what was going on inside. One of the caretakers finally took courage and gently rapped at the wooden door. It was opened a crack by Delenn herself. She said, “Do not interrupt again. I will let you know when assistance is required.” The door shut with a soft click.

 

 _John was standing in a comfortable room, with two windows flanking a stone fireplace. The blue light bars on either size were emitting a cool light which harmonized with the painting above them. As he blinked and studied the worn overstuffed chairs and the wall shelf crammed with books, he realized he was home, in his family’s farmhouse. He heard a sound and whirled around, half expecting to see his father standing there._

“ _Where is this?” Lyta asked, trying to ignore the flare of hopeful expectation and subsequent disappointment in John’s eyes when he saw it was her._

“ _My family’s home, back on Earth. Kosh appeared to me here once, just before he died.”_

“ _This is it then, your emotional center. It’s often a place from your childhood, someplace with great resonance and meaning to you. What’s that over there?” She pointed towards the wall opposite the bookshelf. The window was cracked across two panes, and there were stone fragments on the floor. Sunshine shone through the chinks in the wall. She crossed the room, and placed her hand on one of the holes. John cried out in pain_.

 

At the sound of her husband’s cry, Delenn stood, and placing her hands on either side of his head, prayed for his pain to subside. Her impassioned words echoed inside his mind.

 

 _Lyta jerked her hand away at his cry, then heard all around her, an invocation in Delenn’s soft voice. Turning, she saw John visibly relax as the pain apparently subsided, and wondered again at the connection between the two of them. “We need to fix this wall, I think. This must be the damage the Minbari telepath did to your mind, trying to get past your defenses. Maybe that will be enough.” Carefully keeping her own thoughts walled away, she allowed herself to wonder what was happening in the orchard. It seemed unconnected to this obvious damage, but appeared to be serious. There had been an aura there, a hint of a presence that was not Kosh. It felt like Kosh, but was older, more powerful. Returning her mind to her task, she wished she had more training in psychic healing. The basics had been drilled into her at PsiCorps but, the basics had included ways to hurt and harm, as well as ways to heal. She shuddered at the memory._

 _Going outside the house, she showed John how to pick up the stones and hold them against the wall. She focused her mental energy and thought them into place. Then she showed him how to repair the window glass by picturing it whole and overlaying that picture on the scene until it was the only one they could see._

“ _How does that work?” asked John. The whole procedure had been fascinating to him._

“ _The truth is sometimes what you believe it to be and other times what you decide it to be."_

 _John’s head whipped around he stared at Lyta. He’d heard that phrase before, and not in pleasant circumstances, from a man he knew only as his interrogator. Trying to hide his consternation, he asked if they were done._

“ _Only one way to find out. Let’s go back and see if it worked.”_

“ _What if I need to find my way back here? Can I do this myself?”_

 _Lyta thought for a moment. “Yes, I think so, and I think I can show you how to find your way. We’ll need a trigger, a scent or sound or phrase, which you can use as a guide. It’s similar to the way the candle flame is used as a focus in Minbari meditation. That’s an external focus; we need something internal.”_

“ _Since this is Kosh’s place, let’s use the monks’ song you heard before. It always reminds me of Kosh anyway.”  
“All right. Think the song, and I’ll bind it to this place in your mind.”_

“ _Will I still remember the circumstances in which I originally heard it?”_

“ _I think so. The combination of picturing the house, and remembering the sounds, at the same time, should bring you here. The separate memories should remain intact as well, but as I told you, there are no guarantees.” They were now back inside the room. The walls and window panes were intact._

“ _All right. Go ahead.”_

 _The melodious chant filled the air around them, and Lyta walked the perimeter of the room, touching a corner here, a floorboard there, outlining the fireplace with her hands._

“ _That should do it. Now, we need a trigger to take you back out.”_

“ _That’s easy.” John smiled crookedly. “We’ll use the sound of falling rain.”_

“ _Ok then.” Lyta wondered what significance that sound had to him. He looked happier that he had since she’d arrived. She linked to him mentally, and started the journey back, with the sound of gently falling rain echoing all around them._

 

“John? Lyta, is he going to wake up? What did you do to him?”

Delenn’s voice was rising, reflecting her increasing anxiety as Lyta sipped a cup of tea, and answered, “I don’t know. He’s processing what happened inside. He’ll wake up when he’s ready.”

“It has been an hour. Are you sure he’s all right?”

Patiently, Lyta reiterated, “I can’t be sure, but I think so.” Glancing over at John, whose head lay cradled on his crossed arms on the table, she said, “I think he’s starting to stir at last.”

Delenn put her arms around her husband’s shoulders, laid her head close to his, and whispered, “John? Are you awake? Can you speak?”

Turning his head to look into her eyes, he said, “I am now.” Sitting up straight, his hand went to his forehead. “I thought I would have the mother of all headaches after that; but the pain is gone.” He looked at Lyta, and said simply, “Thank you.”

She smiled demurely, and muttered, “You’re welcome.” Rising to her feet, she said, “I need to check on Rathenn. Let me know when it’s time to leave.” As she left the room, she thought that she had gotten everything she wanted from this visit, and more.

 

The following day, Lyta Alexander stood at the viewing port of the short-range ship taking her into orbit. The liner heading for Earth was above her, seemingly growing larger as they approached. She thought back to what Delenn had said as she said good-bye: “We, all of us, owe you a debt that can never be repaid.”

Lyta smiled, a tight predatory smile. Debts can always be repaid. Only sometimes the price is much, much more than you imagined.

 

 

 


	2. All Politics is Local

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far—
> 
> In Part I: Collateral Damage, we find out Lyta Alexander has set up a homeworld for telepaths with the assistance of G'Kar. She solicits the support of the Alliance, and gets some, but not all, of what she wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the Lennier/Ivanova AU, set in 2273
> 
> This part is rated G, with some mild language

 

 

 _All politics is local—Thomas ‘Tip’ O’Neill_

 

Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words.

 

 

Part II: All Politics is Local

 

The sitting room in Senator Vir Cotto’s townhouse was set up for an intimate party. In actuality, there were only two attendees, Vir himself, and his friend Lennier, who was visiting from Minbar. The two friends were relishing a quiet evening together, even though Vir had received some disturbing news from his sister earlier in the day.

“It’s very unsettled out there, Lennier. I can’t explain it; it’s like a storm is slowly moving in…a feeling of electricity in the air. Anilia will be here later; perhaps she will have some information about what is going on.”

“It will give me joy to see her again. How goes her work?” Lennier’s voice fell, even though there was no one else in the room, or even in the house. Anilia had become heavily involved in the telepathic underground, and was even now meeting with one of her Palace contacts, gathering information for Ker’s group of rebels. Vir had earlier made clear his disquiet at her level of involvement, believing it to be both dangerous and unwise.

“She is at the Palace again, meeting with Larra. I cannot believe she trusts that woman’s discretion. I like Larra, she is an excellent cook and her heart is in the right place, but she is scattered, and cannot keep her mouth shut!”

Lennier smiled to himself. It had not been that long ago that many would have had similar thoughts regarding his host.

“What is she expecting to learn from this Larra?”

“I don’t know…something about the Royal Court, I suppose. Ker insists that the banning of telepaths from the court was in order to hide some dark secret.”

“The Centauri Royal Court, Londo, and a dark secret? No wonder you don’t like the sound of it!” Lennier reached forward to set down his cup on the table. “Speaking of sounds, what is going on outside?”

The two friends walked over to the tall windows flanking the stone fireplace. Vir’s townhouse was an inheritance from his father, a small house connected to others in a row along a quiet street in a respectable, but not elite, suburb. The Centauri capital was laid out with concentric circular boulevards, wide throughways connected by narrower streets with gates at either end. The river Ea ran through the center of the city, cutting across the boulevards, spanned by ornate iron bridges. In the older, poorer, more dangerous areas of the city, the connecting streets were mere alleyways or ungated informal tracks at oblique angles. The city had been laid out with a goal of preventing invading armies gaining easy access to the Royal Palace and the aristocracy’s large mansions, which lay at the center. These were laid out along gridded, tree-lined streets; with public parks, sparkling fountains, and ornate temples sprinkled in between the extensive grounds of the compounds which housed the elites.

“There are a large number of people in the street, Vir. Is there some sort of festival or demonstration going on?” asked Lennier.

Vir looked past Lennier’s shoulder, and shook his head. “Not that I know of. Can you see any signs or banners? They seem to be heading towards the center of town…look there!” He pointed towards the house across the street. The door had just opened, and a young man, looking as if he had barely reached his majority, came out and down the steps. He fell into line with the other marchers, and was soon lost to sight. The crowd was eerily silent, with no chatter or discussion. There were people standing on the sidewalk making noise, pointing, and shouting questions at the marchers. When the walkers reached the cross street, they turned in unison, without seeming to consult each other, and headed further into town.

Lennier and Vir looked at each other, confused by the display. “What could it be? Should we go outside and try to ascertain what is happening?” asked Lennier.

Vir nodded slowly, saying solemnly, “I have a very bad feeling about this…”

He was interrupted by a hammering at the front door, and a voice shouting loudly enough to be heard through the heavy wooden slab, “Open up! Open in the name of Emperor Mollari!”

 

Anilia Cotto was being very cautious. Telepaths in general were banned from court, though she had limited access due to the fact that her brother was a Senator in the Centaurum. She was usually careful to enter the Palace only in the company of her brother, and on formal occasions when it would be inconvenient to single her out. Vir was expert at blandly ignoring the hints that she was not welcome. Still, she had gotten an extremely confusing, but urgent message from Larra, and was determined to meet with the woman today. Vir had offered to accompany her, but since the Centaurum was not in session, and there were no scheduled audiences today, his presence would be marked as unusual, and would draw attention to the both of them. She had discovered some less obvious means of entering into the servants’ areas of the Palace, and had used them more than once to speak with informants, and do a little discreet spying herself. She didn’t use her telepathic abilities; the Palace was screened in some way she didn’t quite understand. She had tried once, and gotten some sort of buzzing feedback that had left her with a blinding headache for days. It was possible it was some sort of alert system, letting whoever had set it up know when a telepath was scanning or otherwise using their abilities.

Larra had contacted her earlier in the week, promising her a glimpse of one of Londo's 'secret' meetings. According to Larra, at sporadic intervals there were unannounced meetings in one of the underground rooms in the Palace. Larra had noted that the emperor's personal guards were stationed in the hallways to keep anyone from wandering too close. Sometimes refreshments were ordered, and the cook had been in charge of delivering them at least twice. No one was ever in the room when the supplies were set up, and no one was there when they were cleared away. The food was sometimes exotic, and not to the Emperor's usual taste. Larra had marked the location of the meeting room, and found a hiding place for Anilia to use. It had a view of the room, and was accessible through the walled passageways Larra had roamed in as a child. It was helpful having an informant who had been raised in the Palace, the daughter of a royal cook and an Imperial guard. Larra had spent much of her childhood there, and worked there all her life.

Anilia cut behind the stables, and headed towards the back door to the kitchen areas along a tall scalloped hedge, with decorative openings cut into the living shrubbery. Her nerves were on edge, as it was still daylight, unlike her usual forays onto the Palace grounds, and she was ready to duck through the nearest opening, and hide behind the green wall, at the first sign of trouble. No one bothered her, and she slipped quietly down three steps to a small door, and knocked. Repeating the coded knock, she waited impatiently until the door opened a crack.

“Sera Cotto?” a voice asked in a hoarse whisper.

“It’s me, Larra! Let me in before someone see me!” Slipping into the hallway, Anilia gripped Larra’s hand in greeting. “Now, when is this meeting?”

“I can’t be sure. I set up the food and drink a few hours ago, but the guards only appeared at the end of the corridor in the last ten minutes. I think they may have started; we must hurry.”

Anilia followed her guide, watching her slide back a panel in the back of the kitchen storeroom and disappear into the wall. She followed at a discreet distance as Larra led the way through the dark and dingy passage. Periodically she would catch a glimpse of light from a room on the other side of the wall, gleaming through gaps in the panelling. As she groped her way along the dusty walls, she thought back to her last conversation with Ker. He had finally told her his plans for an uprising of the telepaths to publicize and protest their treatment. Vir’s reaction, when she had informed him of Ker’s ideas, was a mix of skepticism and uneasiness. She herself was torn; a march might be effective in letting the people know of the telepaths’ issues, but it was also an opportunity for the Emperor to crack down on their group. It was so very public, and she had become used to operating in the shadows. What was worse, Ker had largely lost interest in her attempts to find out who was behind the plots against the Alliance. His focus was on his telepaths; and he couldn’t or wouldn’t see the connections that she did. Everything led back to the Palace; she was certain of it. Lennier agreed with her. She allowed herself a moment of pleasant anticipation, thinking of the evening ahead, good food and good conversation with her brother and his friend. Hopefully, she would have some information for them as well.

Anilia started at a touch on her arm. It was Larra, and there was enough dim light for her to see that the older woman was holding a finger to her lips. Gesturing towards a four inch crack in the wall, Larra leaned over and whispered in Anilia’s ear, “I have to get back before I am missed. I will return in twenty or thirty minutes. Wait here for me.” With that she was gone, and Anilia was alone. Quelling her trepidation, she approached the gap and put her eye to the opening. What she saw made her gasp involuntarily; the Emperor was inside the small room, and he was not alone.

 

Lennier and Vir exchanged a quick and meaningful look. “Do you know what they want?” asked Lennier quickly.

“No idea. But it’s probably not good,” replied his friend.

“Is there another way out of here?” queried Lennier, “I know how popular my people are here on Centauri Prime. It might be better if I was not at home to these visitors.”

Vir gestured towards the hallway, and led Lennier to the back of the house. Unfortunately, there was a group of guards pounding on the back door as well. “Ah well,” said Vir. “Perhaps we’d better see what they want.” He went back to the front door, and opened it abruptly, which caused the guard to stumble forward, clenched fist ready to pound on a door that had shifted. “What is the meaning of this?” demanded Vir. Lennier was struck by the difference in demeanour his friend exhibited. This must be Senator Cotto, former ambassador to Minbar and Babylon 5, rather than his old friend Vir.

“I have orders to take in the Minbari, Lennier. The Emperor wishes to speak with him,” said the guard stiffly.

“Did the Emperor say why he wished to speak with my guest? And why he found it necessary to send a platoon instead of an invitation?” demanded Vir.

“He did not say. My orders are to take him to the Palace. Your presence is also requested. That’s all I know…Ser,” replied the guard, using the honorific with some reluctance.

“We will be out in a moment then. Wait here.” Vir closed the door in the astonished guard’s face, and turned to Lennier. “I’m afraid you’ll have to go; Londo’s word is law here, as you know. I’ll come with you…”

Lennier broke in, “Are you sure that’s wise? Perhaps it would be best if I just them take me. Can you get a call to Minbar, and let them know what’s happened?”

Vir hesitated, then said, “I’ll let them know, but then I’m coming to the Palace. Londo has changed since you knew him. We need to know what he wants with you. Something is going on today, and I don’t know what, but I don’t like it.”

“What about Anilia? Wasn’t she to meet us here later?” asked Lennier.

“I’ll leave her a note. She’ll be safe here.”

The guards were a bit more respectful when Vir opened the door to them. He grasped Lennier's forearms in farewell, and informed the guards that he would be arriving at the Palace shortly, and to let the Emperor know. Vir stood and watched the guards place his friend in an armored groundcar, and drive off. Closing the door behind him, Vir let his breath out and wondered what more surprises the day had in store.

He entered the private frequency code that Ivanova had given him during the last crisis, and waited for the connection to work its way through the communications beacons that connected Centauri Prime and Minbar through both normal and hyperspace. He used the time to compose a careful note to his sister, letting her know what had happened, and that she was to await his return at the house. After only a brief interval, the screen pinged a signal indicating the connection had been made, and he went over and sat down in front of it. Another call to Ivanova with unpleasant news: he sighed, and rubbed his temples; why did he always get to make these sorts of calls?

"Vir? Why are you calling? Not that it's not good to hear from you, but this frequency is for emergencies…" Ivanova sounded puzzled, then her voice changed abruptly, "Is everything all right? Where's Lennier?"

"That's what I'm calling about. I'm afraid he's being detained. I don't know why; I'm on my way to the Palace now to find out what I can. He asked that I notify you first."

Ivanova stared at the screen, her face blank. "Who detained him? Did they say anything? I don't understand, Vir. This was a social visit. He wasn't involved in anything…was he? Was he doing any work for you, or on his own?"

"No, no. He just stopped by on his way back to Minbar! The guards said the order came directly from Londo. I'll find out and get back to you. There are a lot of strange things going on here; maybe there's a connection."

“What kind of things?” asked Susan, still trying to put the ideas of ‘Lennier’ and ‘jail’ and ‘Centauri Prime’ together in her head.

Vir looked thoughtful. “There were a lot of people out in the street; a demonstration of some kind. I wasn’t sure before, but I’m wondering if this has to do with Ker’s plans to publicly protest Londo’s treatment of Centauri telepaths. His timing is terrible; I was planning to bring this up before the Centaurum at the start of the next session. I asked him to wait on this! What could have happened to cause him to go ahead with it?”

“What, or who?” murmured Susan to herself. “Vir, call me as soon as you find out anything, all right? I’ll put some plans in motion myself. Hopefully, this is just some crazy idea of Londo’s and you can get it straightened out. If not, I may have to talk with the Emperor myself.” Her face was grim.

Vir looked startled, then worried. “I don’t think that would be a particularly wise idea, Ivanova. Londo is…not who you remember from before. He’s changed, and not entirely for the better. Let me work on this; I’ll call as soon as I can. Now, I really have to go.”

Susan said, “Yes, go!” and turned away from the screen. She stopped, then turned back reluctantly, “Vir, could you tell him, from me, that I…oh, hell,” and she stopped, frustrated.

Vir smiled. “I’ll tell him,” and he clicked off the monitor, and left the house hurriedly. Once on the street, he hailed the first ground taxi going past. “Take me to the Palace, at once,” he ordered brusquely.

The cab driver answered, “I’ll get you as close as I can, Ser. Those head-cases are all over the streets today; it’s been rough getting around. Last I heard they were all headed towards the Palace grounds too. I’ll get you as close as I can.”

Vir leaned back against the cushioned head-rest. “It’ll have to do. Be as quick as you can.”

 

Anilia knelt in the passage, pressing her eye up against the crack. She could see only about one third of the room, which had a large semi-circular desk, and shelves lining the walls she could see. The Emperor was seated behind the desk, with his back to her, and he was speaking to two, or three other figures, which were just out of her view. Her hearing was muffled by the thick wall, and she could make out only a few words. She was severely tempted to scan the Emperor, but didn’t dare draw attention to herself. Straining to hear, she held her breath, and tried not to move.

“Well, what is it this time?” The querulous tones of the Centauri Emperor filled the small room. He hated meeting here, and his associates knew it, and enjoyed his discomfiture. At least he’d had the severed heads cleared out when he’d taken over the throne. He took some satisfaction in picturing his persecutors' heads in place of the ones he’d had removed. He wished his keeper could hear those thoughts; that would give him a perverse pleasure as well. “Well?” he repeated, swiveling his chair to face the Drakh leader.

Anilia could almost visualize the shadowy figure that Emperor Mollari was addressing. Twisting her body sideways to shift her field of view, she could only see that it was tall, and draped in a floor-length cloak. The Emperor seemed almost fearful of it, although it didn’t seem to carry any weapon, or make any threatening gestures. She could almost hear them as their voices raised….

“Kill them, Mollari. It is the simplest solution. They have conveniently gathered together in one place; we will be rid of them.”

“I cannot do that! They are Centauri; they are my people. Petitioning the Emperor is not illegal in itself. Besides, their power in the government and the military has already been neutralized!”

“They are outside your Palace at this moment, arousing the public against you. What would you suggest?”

Londo was silent, and the figure glided behind him, into Anilia’s field of vision. She stifled a gasp at the horrible visage of the alien. It reached a hand towards the Emperor’s shoulder, and stroked it gently. For a moment, she could almost see something there.

“It will cause more trouble than it will prevent. Let me talk with their leader; see what they want,” the Emperor pleaded.

“You are weak, Mollari. You spend too much time worrying about appearances. If you cannot deal with them, then we will.”

“Perhaps if we kill their leader? That will often do the trick. Have the rebel telepath, what was his name? Ker? brought before me. We will let him think we are negotiating, and then we will kill him. That will show the others what they are up against. He will be unable to effectively use his abilities within the Palace.”

Anilia stifled a cry. Ker had launched his protest? The plan had been to wait until the Centaurum was in session, and co-ordinate his efforts with Vir’s motion in the Senate. What could have caused him to do this? She had to get out of here; she had to warn him. Turning quickly, she tripped and fell heavily against the wall.

“What was that?” The Drakh leader gestured towards the wall, and the other two aliens moved swiftly towards the sound.

“I heard nothing,” said Londo quickly, but the two Drakh ignored him, and began to tear down the panelling. Anilia tried to retreat down the passageway, but one of the aliens grabbed her by the arm and hauled her into the room, scraping her over the splintered wood. She kept her head down, but the Drakh holding her grabbed her twisted mane and pulled back her head, while simultaneously forcing her to her knees in front of Londo and the Drakh leader. She saw the spark of recognition in Londo’s eye, but he said nothing.

“What have we here?” said the Drakh. He cocked his head, as if listening to someone speak, although there was no sound she could hear. There was, however, a faint buzzing in her head. “She is a telepath, probably an ally of this Ker.” He looked at the Centauri woman dispassionately, then turning to the other Drakh, said, “Kill her.”

“No!” said Londo forcibly.

The Drakh, all three of them, looked at him. Their leader gestured, and Londo grimaced as if in pain. He spoke, his voice thick and forced. “Listen to me. She is the sister of one of the Senators. Her absence will be noticed. And she has friends! In the Alliance!”

“Indeed.” The Drakh seemed intrigued. “Perhaps she will prove useful. She will still have to be killed, Mollari.”

“Let us see what use we can make of her first. She will be safe enough in the dungeons.” Londo rose and approached Anilia, who was still on her knees. “I will send for Vir, and see what he knows of this uprising. Perhaps the Alliance is behind it? He still has contact with Delenn’s little aide, does he not?”

Anilia’s eyes opened wide in shock. Londo’s smile in response was hard and bitter. “I see. I had heard that Lennier was here.” The Drakh turned and glared at Londo at this revelation. He answered defensively, “It seemed an innocent visit. I would have told you otherwise.” Turning back to Anilia, Londo went on, “I will have the Minbari brought here to join you. Then we will get to the bottom of this. I promise you that.”

 

Susan had already gotten a small group of ships vetted and ready for a rescue mission. She’d picked four other captains, human and Minbari, that she knew personally and trusted. She requested that they pull together crews from Rangers stationed on Minbar, and maintain readiness to jump at a moment’s notice. She hadn’t had a chance to stop and think about what she was feeling; she was too busy acting. She also hadn’t stopped long enough to let John and Delenn know what had happened; she kept hoping that she would hear good news from Vir before she had to tell them. Finally, she couldn’t put it off any longer, and after informing her assistant where she would be, and asking that any calls on the emergency channel she had set up for Vir be transferred to her link, she set off for Alliance headquarters. The buildings were connected on three levels, and it was a short walk across a glass bridge to the Alliance side. She’d checked in advance, and found Delenn was in her office, and she'd requested that John join them. As she entered, she saw that they were seated in front of the small stone fireplace filled with candles. Delenn’s office always looked more like a sanctuary than a place of business. She collapsed on the couch and accepted the offer of a cup of coffee. There was always a supply kept ready for her. John had pretty much switched to tea after so many years on Minbar. He’d always liked the stuff—hot flavored water, no body to it, in Susan’s opinion.

“All right, what’s wrong? You have a death grip on that coffee cup.” John’s tone was light, but his eyes were serious, reflecting his concern at her mood.

Susan started to reply, when a small glass pyramid on the table in front of her lit up and pinged softly. Delenn excused herself, and went to check on it. “I am sorry, Susan. I asked them to only put through urgent calls. I will see who it is.” An uneasy silence lay between John and Susan, when Delenn returned from the outer room. “I think you two should come and hear this.”

The three gathered around the screen, to see the face of G’Kar of Narn on the monitor. “Have you heard?” G’Kar expostulated. “Turn on ISN if you can; the reports from Mars are all over the newslinks! I just heard myself!”

“What is it?” John asked, as he ordered the auxiliary monitor to locate the ISN feed.

“It is Lyta,” said Delenn unhappily. “I believe she has made her move to liberate the human telepaths.”

 

Vir’s cab got caught up in traffic, mostly foot-traffic, about five blocks away from the main entrance to the Royal Palace. He paid the driver, and set off on foot. He was becoming increasingly worried about the situation. The demonstration was larger than he had expected, and by now, he knew it was the telepaths, because he had recognized a few of them from meetings with Ker’s group. He hoped Anilia had made it back to the house; it was not a good day to be wandering around the Palace grounds, especially when she wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. He pushed his way through the crowds, apologizing profusely, and gradually made his way to the front gates. The Imperial Guards were out in force, blocking entrance to the Palace. He stopped just before reaching the entrance, and looked back at the crowd. It was almost eerily quiet, for so many gathered in a public space. He assumed the telepaths were communicating with each other mind-to-mind, which left the observers the only people chattering. There was one other; as he watched, he saw Ker step up onto a makeshift platform in the center of the large square in front of the Palace. Ker began to speak, quietly but firmly, and the crowds of onlookers eventually began to cease their talk and listen.

He spoke of patriotism and national pride. He spoke of how the telepaths were the sons and daughters of loyal Centauri, and came from all families; high, middle, and low. He told them of his fellow telepaths’ distress at being shut out from public service, which is where their talents were best put to use. He spoke of the long history of telepaths in the military, in the intelligence services, and in the government as advisors and recorders of public history. Then he began to tell them what had been happening; the restrictions, the disappearances, the deaths.

Vir was impressed. He had never heard Ker speak like this, and looked around to see some in the crowd nodding their heads. Some were booing, and a few walked away, shaking their heads in disgust. Glancing back at the gates, he saw with apprehension, a new unit of guards arriving. Their leader spoke briefly with the guard on the gate, then the large iron gates creaked open, and the unit walked out. Vir took the opportunity to slip inside the gate, showing his ID to the guard in the sentry box just inside. The sentry waved him on, and he was heading up the gravel pathway towards the steps at the main entrance, when he heard weapons fire. Turning, he saw in horror that the guards were shooting into the crowd, seemingly randomly. People were screaming, running, trying to hide; but the square was packed and there was no place to go. Ker had disappeared, and Vir hoped he had gotten away. Suddenly, the guards froze, their faces blank. The crowd was still milling towards the side streets to make their escape, but the few nearest the guards stopped and watched, puzzled by their behavior. Then, one by one, the guards turned towards each other and raised their weapons. The reluctance and terror was etched on their agonized faces as they fired; over and over again, not stopping until they were all down, on the ground, bleeding. The crowd nearest the injured guards grew silent, then fell away. A few tried to help the dying soldiers, but most left as quickly as they could. Vir caught sight of one man he knew from the telepathic resistance; he was smiling, and as people drew back from him, he was left an open path to walk out of the square unmolested.

 

ISN had pictures of the explosion that had rocked the main PsiCorps building on Mars. The fires were extensive, and initial reports indicated that there had been some casualties. It seemed that most of the telepaths working in the building had evacuated. Some reported getting a ‘feeling’ that something was wrong; others had received a strong mental warning. Emergency services was still trying to put out the main fire, so the police could get inside and try to find out what had caused the explosion.

“There’s no reason to believe that it's Lyta,” said John, looking worriedly at Delenn, who looked stricken as she observed the damage.

“Oh, it’s her, all right,” said Susan. “Remember when I told her she’d be better off nuking PsiCorps? She as much as said she wouldn’t mind if no telepaths were hurt. I guess she figured out a way to keep most of them safe, and went ahead.”

“But what does she hope to gain from this kind of violence? Her cause will surely not be helped by this act!” said Delenn.

G’Kar spoke from the other screen, “I was about to call you when this event came to my attention. Did Lyta tell you of her plans for a telepath homeworld? That it was being formed on an abandoned Narn colony?”

John nodded, and G’Kar went on, “I told her that my support was contingent on her getting approval from Alliance members to speak to their telepaths. While I believe in her cause, I also believe she was hiding many things. We spent a great deal of time together when we left the station all those years ago. She seemed to have moved beyond her grief and rage, but underneath, I fear she is still quite unstable. What exactly did you say to her plans?”

Delenn was still staring at the screen, transfixed. John answered, “We told her we would not get involved, if it remained an internal Earth, or Mars, matter. Delenn promised her she would arrange for safe passage for any telepaths crossing Minbari space on their way to the colony. That’s all.”

Susan interjected, pointing at the screen, “Look, there’s Lyta!” Her jaw dropped and she continued, “And Garibaldi is with her!”

 

When Vir entered the throne room, Londo was alone, and staring at a holo-screen above his head. It showed a fire, somewhere he didn’t recognize. The narration was in the Earth language, and as he looked, he noticed the ISN symbol at the bottom left of the screen. He came closer, and made the formal bow required to honor the Emperor, and waited to be acknowledged.

“Vir, have you seen this?” asked Londo absently, still watching the screen.’

“No. I haven’t. That is, not until I walked in here and saw it. What is it, anyway?” answered Vir.

“It seems the telepaths are rioting on Mars. There has been an explosion, and some fires. People have been killed, apparently. Do you think there is any connection with our local problem?”

“I can’t see how…” began Vir, when Londo shushed him.

“Look, it can’t be…but it is! Miss Alexander!” Londo sounded pleased that he recognized the human. “And Mr. Garibaldi! A meeting of old friends! Be quiet, Vir!” he said as he saw Vir open his mouth to speak, “I want to hear this!”

 

Lyta stood, alongside Michael on a raised platform at one end of the crowded room, and coolly surveyed the crowd. It was mostly reporters, digi-cams floating above their heads, police, and security guards. No PsiCorps representatives were present that she could identify. She stood calmly while Michael introduced himself (not that anyone in the room didn’t recognize the co-owner of Edgars Industries) and announced that there was a witness to the attack. Turning the microphone over to her, he stood aside.

“My name is Lyta Alexander. Some of you may have heard of me, but many of you may not. I believe I am still wanted on Earth, suspected of complicity in terrorist attacks against PsiCorps. I was never involved in any attack against my fellow telepaths. I came to Mars to discuss my plans to establish a homeworld for telepaths of all species, in Narn territory, with Michael Garibaldi, who is an old friend, and a supporter of this plan. This colony, which is being readied for habitation at this very moment, is supported by G’Kar of the Narn, and also by the Interstellar Alliance. I came here from Minbar, where I spoke directly with John Sheridan and Delenn. While here on Mars, I became aware of a planned attack on PsiCorps Headquarters. I warned as many of my people as I could, in the short time I had, and I am thankful that the death count was no higher. This kind of cowardly attack on those whose mental abilities are different is the reason I have worked these last ten years to find a safe haven for telepaths who wish one. On too many worlds, we are ostracized, isolated, feared, and even killed. We need a home, a place where there are others like us, and where our abilities are understood, and not feared.”

Cameras whirred as the reporters began to shout questions. The newsfeed cut to scenes of riots in the streets as groups of telepaths and normals fought in the gridded streets that ran between the faceless concrete buildings of Burroughs, the second largest dome on Mars. Michael Garibaldi took the microphone away from Lyta, placed it next to his own, and loudly whistled into it. The feedback echoed through the room, and after everyone took their hands away from their ears, he said, “Ms. Alexander is correct that Edgars Industries has been supporting her ideas. But this violence has got to stop. I’d like to offer up our headquarters as a meeting place for the affected parties; representatives from PsiCorps, the Earth and Mars governments, other interested parties…we can come to a peaceful solution. I suggest everyone try to calm down. We can meet back here in an hour.”

The reporters exploded in a flurry of shouted questions, but Edgars Industries’ excellently trained guards formed a phalanx around Michael and Lyta and escorted them quickly from the briefing room. The report cut to official reactions, which were a mix of condemnation of the violence, and wary approval of the proposed talks. A representative of EarthGov stated that telepaths and PsiCorps were a valued part of the government, and that it would not be advantageous if there was mass migration to this new colony. She pointed out that the government made a huge investment in supporting, training, and research to assist telepaths; and said that they were well treated and respected on Earth. A Mars Council representative made similar remarks. Interviews with random people on the street on both worlds netted different views, ranging from cautious relief to open antagonism. Most people neither liked nor trusted the telepaths, and most said they would not be sorry to see them go. The reporters then turned to news from other worlds, where the native telepaths of each society were joining in the protest, petitioning for better treatment, or for permission to leave their worlds for the new colony. Lyta had started a brushfire, but it was rapidly burning out of control.

 

“I told you.” Susan stated emphatically, but with no triumph in her voice. “She’s landed us in the middle of it. ‘Supported by the Alliance’, ‘I spoke directly with John Sheridan and Delenn’; she makes it sound like we’re behind her one hundred percent!” Then a thought struck her, and she paled. “I almost forgot. We have another problem.”

She managed through a tight throat to say the words in the face of John and Delenn’s looks of disbelief. “Vir called. For some reason, Londo has taken Lennier into custody. If the telepaths on Centauri Prime are rebelling; he now has good reason to believe the Alliance is involved.” Susan went on, more rapidly, the words tumbling out, “If he thinks Lennier is our agent in this…he’ll be treated as a spy…tortured, executed.”

Delenn rubbed the back of her neck, agitated, “We must get word to Londo then. Lennier is not involved…the Alliance is not involved in this!”

John said forcibly, “We’ll issue a statement, revoke our promise of safe passage, and make our position clear!”

“No one will believe us now. They’ll just think we’re reneging now it’s getting out of hand. Lyta was here; she spoke with you two. Too many people saw all that. We can’t explain it away at this point.” Susan spoke with pained resignation.

Delenn added in a strained voice, “Also I do not think we should abandon the telepaths in this. Aside from the violence, there is no reason we cannot support a peaceful voluntary relocation of people to a new colony where they are welcome. The EarthGov representative made them sound like slaves; they are given no choices under the current system.”

Susan nodded, “That’s true. Lyta played this just right. She didn’t know, or more likely didn’t care, that innocent people would be caught up in her plans. We’ll have to think of another way.”

 

“The Alliance is behind this revolt! I knew it!” Londo practically spat out the words.

Vir straightened and spoke as calmly as he could, “I do not believe that.” He then said, hesitantly, “I don’t think I believe that. They would not encourage violence, but they may be in favor of a homeworld for the telepaths. It’s not such a bad idea, for those who want to go. I suppose…”

Londo looked hard at Vir, and said softly, “So, tell me why your fair sister was caught spying on me earlier today? Is she in on this Alliance conspiracy?” His voice lowered further, and carried a faint note of paranoia, “Are you?”

Vir stared at Londo, his mind frantically trying to come up with an innocent explanation. “I don’t know that she was spying…where was she?”

“In a wall, peering through a knothole. It seemed suspicious at the time, but perhaps I am overly sensitive. I had to detain her, as she could not explain herself.”

“You have placed a gently-born Centauri lady in prison!” Vir was shocked. “I will accept responsibility for her—you must let her go!”

“She is working with the telepaths and the Alliance, and is a traitor!”

“She is a loyal Centauri, and my sister!”

Londo changed tactics. “I know you are fond of her, but you must admit her behavior has been, well, erratic? Hiding in walls? It is not normal, Vir. You know telepaths have been banned from the Palace. I have been lax in her case, because she is your sister, but this is going too far.”

“Well, maybe you’re right,” Vir said quickly. “Let me see her. I’m sure she has an explanation.”

“I do not know. I rather think she should stay a while. It might encourage her willingness to communicate. Besides, she has company now! It’s a regular party in the cells tonight!”

Vir looked confused, then realized he had forgotten Lennier in his concern for Anilia. “Why did you have your guards bring Lennier here, Londo? He is not involved in this!”

“Look at it this way. Lennier arrives on Centauri Prime. He is a member of the inner circle of the Alliance. The rebel Ker starts a riot outside the Palace. Your sister, who is known to both Ker and Lennier, is caught spying on me. Lyta Alexander starts a riot on Mars, and has the backing of the Alliance for her telepath homeworld. It certainly seems to be related, hmmm?” Londo stood, and descended the steps from the throne. Placing one arm around Vir’s shoulder, he said, “Vir, I have no desire to see harm come to you or your family. I will find out what is going on, and then I will let you know. I am sure it will all work out all right. Now go home, get some rest. It has been a busy day for you!”

Vir didn’t know what to do; he couldn’t challenge Londo. Sick with apprehension, he bowed his head, and backed away as Londo swept by him on his way out of the room. He was left with nothing but empty promises and scant hopes. Now he had to go home and let Ivanova know what had happened. Things were going from bad to worse.

 

While Susan let John and Delenn know of Lennier’s imprisonment, the object of her affection and concern was kneeling on the cold stone floor of his cell, deep below the Centauri Royal Palace. He was lost in meditation, his mind free to roam where his body could not. Since he had no idea why he had been detained, and without knowledge, there was no basis for action, he allowed himself some wishful fantasy. He decided once he was back on Minbar, he would persuade Susan to go for a drive, perhaps into the mountains. Once they were far, far away from cities and other people, he would crash the flyer…no, it would have an inexplicable mechanical problem. A crash would be too dangerous; she might be hurt. Something that could be fixed, but not easily; it would have to take some time. Distracted by the practicalities of disabling a flyer in a manner that could be fixed, but not quickly, and wouldn’t appear an obvious ploy to his technically adept lover, he lost track of where he was and returned to reality with a bump. _That wasn’t meditation; that was daydreaming_ , he thought to himself sternly. Thoughts of Susan were not conducive to proper meditation. Then he realized the bump had been an actual noise, and rose in one fluid motion to stand to one side of the door. If it opened, he wanted to take the opportunity to escape. The door opened abruptly, but before he could act, he found a weeping Centauri woman thrust into his arms. He instinctively clutched her to him, and the door slammed behind her. Looking at his new cellmate, he was shocked to discover it was Anilia.

“What are you doing here?” they both spoke at once. Lennier smiled and gestured towards the blocks of stone that served dual duty as seat and bed. “Welcome to my cell. All the comforts of home, if your home is a dungeon.”

Anilia smiled back, tears drying on her face. There was something in Lennier’s aura of calm competence that engendered confidence. “It’s a long story,” she said as she took a seat.

“I happen to have some time available. Please, go ahead,” answered Lennier, taking a seat beside her.

Anilia launched into her story, not leaving out much except her panicked reaction to news of the plans to kill Ker. Her feelings in that matter were unclear even to her. Lennier listened in sympathetic silence, then began to gently question her, drawing out more details, things she hadn’t even realized she’d heard or seen. He concentrated on the aliens who seemed to be the power behind Londo’s throne. Anilia’s description of them sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place the memory.

“Anilia, I need to ask a favor of you.”

“What is it?” she replied, wondering what she could possibly do for him in this situation.

“I need to ‘see’ those aliens. Is there a way you can show me your memories of what they looked like?”

Anilia looked reluctant. “I could, I suppose. Are you sure? I have never tried this with a Minbari mind. If can be hard to control the extent of the merging…it might be painful.”

Lennier inclined his head in assent. “It is important, Anilia. Would it be dangerous for you? Perhaps I can think of another way…”

“We might see more deeply into one another than we would like.” Anilia said, trying to put aside her personal concerns, especially given her previous experience trying to use her abilties inside the Palace, “But if you need to see them, it is the easiest way.”

“Then let us proceed.” Lennier tried to ignore the possible ramifications of Anilia learning some aspects of his past, those that he himself still struggled to accept. He smiled to reassure her, and said, “What do I need to do?”

“Just sit there. I need to look into your eyes…usually I would touch your temples…” she touched his headbone with interest, “Does it have feeling?”

“A bit, where the bone joins the skull at the back, and at the growing edge. It doesn’t hurt me to touch it; do what you need to do.”

She placed her hands on either side of his head, thumbs on his temples and her fingers reaching around to the base of his headbone, and closed her eyes.

Her hands were cool and her fingers softly stroked the base as she sank into his mind. Lennier tried to ignore his innate physical response to her gentle touch, then flinched as he felt the far more intimate touch of her naked mind. He had that feeling you get as you fall asleep, when for a moment you are adrift from your body, uncertain whether you are floating or falling. He felt a jerk, then opened his eyes to an indeterminate landscape. It wasn’t his cell, that was certain. The predominant sensation was cold, and the only thing he could see was thin grey fog. Reaching out to see if he could touch any surface, he encountered warm fingers which closed over his own. The fog cleared, and he could now see Anilia.

She smiled at him, and said, “It’s hard to visualize the mindscape when the telepath and her subject are so different. You often end up on the grey plain, which is where we are now. Hold to me, and I will guide you through my memories, and let you see what I saw.”

He stumbled along after her, holding tightly to her outstretched hand. Her fingers were slender, but strong, and it gave him an odd feeling of security, like a child walking with a trusted parent. The surface on which they walked was unstable, sometimes hard, sometimes resilient like rubber, and occasionally it would vibrate or undulate under his feet. As they went on, the surroundings became clearer, and he could see they were in a dark dusty passage. She paused, and pointed ahead; there was a chink of light, and she whispered to him, “Look through there, and you will see what I saw.”

Lennier obediently pressed one eye up against the small vertical gap, and watched history unfold again. He recognized them immediately, and understood that these were at last, the power behind the Centauri throne, and the instigators of the plots against the Alliance, and the Sheridans. He listened intently, but when the two Drakh came towards them, tearing at the gap and ripping down the wall, he jumped back and lost hold of Anilia’s hand.

He jerked back into his own skull, and sat gasping, his head cradled between his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Looking over at his comrade, he saw that she had fainted and fallen half off the stone bench. Ignoring the pounding in his head, he reached over and pulled her up, and holding her in his arms, cried out, “Anilia! Are you all right? What happened?”

Her head lolled on her neck, and he realized he had no idea what to do. All he could do was hold onto her, making her as comfortable as he could, and wait for her to wake. Meanwhile, he could think about what to do with the knowledge he had gained, and especially how he could get it back to the Alliance, and to Delenn.

 

Vir came home to an empty house, cold and dark and deserted. At this point, he didn’t know if he’d ever see his sister or his friend again, and to cap off his day, he still had to call Ivanova back and let her know what he had found out, which was almost nothing. Sighing heavily, he poured himself a drink. It wouldn’t hurt to prepare himself for what would undoubtedly be a difficult interview. Finishing the first, he poured himself another, then started the process of contacting Minbar.

Ivanova started awake when the chime on her link sounded. She’d fallen asleep in the chair in her office again. Looking down, she saw the call was from Vir, and she felt a tightening around her chest. She transferred the call to the main comscreen in her office, and hit the button to receive.

Vir started out bluntly, “I have no good news for you, I’m afraid. I did not get to see Lennier. He is still being held, and what is more, Londo caught Anilia spying on him, and has her in the dungeon as well. He is incensed by the telepath’s rebellious demonstrations, and thinks it is an Alliance plot, directed by Lennier, and involving my sister. I think they are both in terrible danger. Londo plans to question them…I have prior knowledge of Centauri interrogation techniques.” His face was reflected in the computer screen, and he could see he had paled and started sweating at the memory; blood pouring from a silver dish, watering the flowers, the ultimate blood meal. “Can you do anything from your end? I can call an emergency session of the Centaurum, but the demonstrations here turned violent, and I don’t think anyone will be in the mood to be charitable to telepaths and off-worlders.”

Susan stared at the screen in silence. When she spoke, the words came out through teeth clenched in anger and fear. “I don’t know what we can do. But we will do something. I’m not leaving him there. That is not an option.” She seemed to forget Vir was still there for a moment, her eyes were focused inward.

“Ivanova? Will you send someone to negotiate with Londo then?” asked Vir. She smiled, and the sight sent shivers up Vir’s spine.

“Yes, someone will come. I’ll contact you when we get there. Keep me informed of any news.” She leaned forward to switch off the com, then added at the last moment, “Thanks, Vir. I know you tried.” With that, the screen went black.

 

Lennier fell asleep with Anilia still cradled against his chest. He didn’t want to lay her down on the chill hard surfaces available to them in the cell. Her breathing was deep and regular, as if she was sleeping, but she hadn’t regained consciousness since their telepathic experiment. His head had finally stopped aching, but he could still feel tendrils of pain wrapping around his temples and the base of his neck, where she had touched him. He was dreaming of Susan, when Anilia started to stir, and for a moment he was confused as to where he was, and who she was. His grip on her tightened as she began to move, and the feel of her pliant body next to his was incredibly arousing. As he focused on her face, her eyes flew open, and for an insane moment, he wondered what she would do if he kissed her.

Anilia woke, warm and secure, held tightly against a firm chest that rose and fell in a regular pattern that indicated slumber. For a moment, she let herself revel in forgetfulness, willing herself to stay in that moment between sleep and waking, when anything is still possible. She looked up into Lennier’s eyes, and saw a flash of desire. It came and went so quickly that she was never certain whether she had actually seen it.

Lennier gently released Anilia, and helped her lean back against the wall. “Are you all right? You have been unconscious a long while.”

“That happens sometime. At least you saw what you needed to see.”

“I saw them. I thought I recognized them from your description, but I needed to see for myself.”

“What are they?”

“They are called Drakh. They were servants of the Great Enemy, and escaped when the Shadow’s homeworld was destroyed after the war. I have encountered them before, but I had no idea they were here, on Centauri Prime. They seemed to have some hold over Londo; they must be directing his actions. If that is so, we are both in terrible danger.”

“What will they do to us?”

“They will kill us, I imagine. They cannot let us leave, knowing what we know. I am sure Vir and the others are doing their best to get us released, but I do not know how they can succeed.” Noticing that Anilia looked stricken by this assessment of their predicament,

Lennier hastened to reassure her, reversing his prior statements, although not very convincingly. “I’m sure that they will find a way. At any event, we must get you out, and I think you should go to Minbar.”

“Minbar! Why would I want to do that?”

“Delenn needs to know about the Drakh, and you can tell them. Plus you will be safe there.”

“You could tell them,” she retorted, “You’ve seen them, too.”

“Only in your memories. You can share your memories directly with them, and have a Minbari telepath scan you for accuracy. It will be proof, much more so than my second-hand report of what you saw.”

She was about to protest again, when they heard an ominous sound, the key in the lock. Two guards entered, and took Lennier by the arms, wrestling him bodily out of the cell, while a third held a gun on Anilia. “We’ll take good care of him, lady. Don’t worry. He’ll be back soon enough. We just have a few questions.”

Anilia watched in despair, as the door closed behind them, leaving her alone.

 

Susan walked slowly swiftly back towards the Alliance headquarters, knowing that they had to move quickly, if they were to intimidate Londo into good behavior. She figured a small force, three or four ships, would be enough to convince him to let Lennier go, rather than risk a confrontation with the full force of the IA. Ringing the chime at John and Delenn’s apartment, she was still calculating how long it would take them to get to Centauri Prime when the door opened abruptly. Disconcerted at the sight of John in his bathrobe, she looked down at the time registered on the link on her hand. “God, I’m sorry, John. I know it’s late, but I’ve heard from Vir. We have to move fast, and I wanted to let you guys know what was happening.”

John gestured her in, and they were soon joined by Delenn, also attired for bed. The sight of the two of them, seated close to each other on the couch, squeezed Susan’s heart, as it always did. They fit together, those two, and she found it hard to imagine one without the other. Wondering if anyone would ever think that about Lennier and her, she went ahead and launched into her plan. At the end, all she the reaction she received was silence.

John nervously ran his hand through his hair, and said cautiously, “We don’t know for sure that Lennier’s in danger, do we? It’s a worst-case scenario, and all too likely, knowing Centauri methods, but it’s possible he’ll be all right until we can get him loose.”

Susan stared. This was not the reaction she had expected from him.

Then Delenn broke in, “Perhaps Susan is correct in making a show of force. Londo will not know we are not serious about following through…”

Susan exploded, “Not serious? Who says I’m not serious?”

An uneasy silence fell over the three of them. Susan looked from one to the other; Delenn could not even meet her gaze, dropping her eyes to stare at her hands, clasped tightly together in her lap. “What’s going on?” Susan went on, her voice starting to sound a little desperate. “You can’t be serious…you’re not thinking of leaving him there!” She rounded on John, “Leaving behind a member of the team? John, we’re never been about that. We support our people, or what’s the point?”

His face creased in sorrow, John answered slowly but definitely, “There are bigger things at stake here than one man, Susan. If you were thinking clearly, you would realize that. I’m certain Lennier does. It’s not worth starting a war over this, not now. Not with all the trouble with the telepaths. We can work quietly, behind the scenes, to get him released. The request will have to come from the Grey Council; he is Minbari, after all, not Anla’Shok; but we can second it, and we will. Londo will see reason.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” Susan said bitterly. “You’re not a soldier any more. You’re a politician, all bureacratic procedure and protocol.”

John’s eyes flashed, and he started to speak but visibly bit back the words.

Susan was just getting started. All the worry and pain and anticipation of yet another loss in her life had built up into an inferno of pent-up rage, which she released onto John. “What the hell is this? Lennier isn’t one of us now? Am I? Are you, Mr. Entil’zha? We’re building something here, or so I thought, something bigger and better, more inclusive than exclusive. Now it’s he’s one thing, and we’re another?” She turned her attention to Delenn, who hadn’t said a word, but looked as if the weight of the world had fallen on her. “What about you, Madame President? He’s your oldest, dearest friend; you’ve told me that a million times. Does that get him counted as ‘one of us’?”

Delenn looked from one to the other, seemingly close to tears, but managed to say calmly enough, “John is right about the political situation, Susan. I wish with all my heart he were not, but he is, and I suspect Lennier would agree. He goes on missions knowing the risks. There are always risks; there is always a price to pay. He would not want war over this.” She repeated, as if to convince herself, “He would not want it.”

Susan stood up, and said, “So that’s it, then?” She stared at them, her face hard, her voice stern. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about the Anla’Shok, about the vow. ‘We live for the One, we die for the One.’ Well, who’s the One? Valen, Jeff…or one of you? Both of you? All three of you? What does that even mean—we die for the One? You die for a cause; you die for your friends, your comrades; you die for your family. Do you expect Lennier to die for a mistake? For being in the wrong place at the wrong time?” She shook her head, “If you ask people to die for you, they have to know it’ll be a last resort; that you’ll have their back, as long as you’re able. Are you writing him off because it’s necessary, or because it’s convenient?”

With that last statement, she headed for the door. John came after her, taking her arm, trying to get her to stay and talk it over. He continued his explanations, emphasizing the necessity of their acting in unison in this crisis, but she was no longer listening. She was thinking furiously, and planning out what she knew she had to do. Delenn sat silently watching the two of them. When Susan finally shook John off, Delenn rose and said, “Susan, before you go, before you act, consider the teaching of the Anla’Shok. When is death meaningful, under what circumstances? If you remember this, you will not be in error in your decision.”

Susan stared at her, her expression almost one of contempt, and hit the control pad to open the door. She turned back to say, “I can’t accept this. It’s not right.” The door slid shut behind her, but they heard her say as she left, “This isn’t over.”

 

Morning dawned on Centauri Prime, and Vir stirred in the chair he had remained in throughout the night. After he’d finished speaking to Ivanova, he’d sat in the dark, thinking about his life and what it all meant. His family was all gone, except for his sister, who was in prison, accused of being a traitor, for which the sentence was death by strangulation. His best friend was in prison also, undoubtedly being tortured for information he did not have, and so would never be able to give, and thus he would never be able to satisfy his torturers. Sometimes he hated his culture; his people. Their traditions and rituals were all wrong-headed and cruel. Stretching his cramped body, he was about to get up and prepare to confront Londo again when he felt a strange impulse to go to the back door. He rose and cautiously went through the kitchen into the back hallway, and heard a scratching noise at the door. Grabbing a heavy iron pot, he stood to one side of the door and flung it open. At the foot of the steps that led down into the garden, he saw Ker, crouching, holding a large stick, with which he’d obviously been tapping at the door.

“Get in here!” Vir said in a loud whisper. After Ker had come in, and the door had shut behind him, Vir hustled him into the house, away from the windows. “What are you doing here? What did you think you were doing yesterday? Why did you involve Anilia in your crazy plans? What do you intend to do now?”

Ker sat open-mouthed at the barrage of questions, unable to get a word in edge-wise. Finally he broke in, “What about Anilia? I didn’t ask her to do anything. In fact…” here he looked a little shame-faced, “I kept her out of the plans for the demonstrations. She’ll probably never forgive me.”

“She was caught spying on Londo in the Imperial Palace. She is in prison, under suspicion of treachery against the throne,” Vir said sternly.

Ker gaped at him, then swallowed hard, “That’s a death sentence! We have to get her out of there!”

“Yes, well. I’m working on that. But why did you move so early? Did it have something to do with Lyta Alexander? Did you know about this homeworld for telepaths she’s trying to establish?”

Ker nodded. “Lyta has been to Centauri Prime; twice in the last few years, and spoken to us. This was before Anilia joined our group. We Centauri telepaths don’t want to emigrate; at least most of us don’t. We just want things to go back to the way they were, before Londo, before Cartagia. We want our lives back.”

“You’ll be lucky to come out of this with your lives intact. Londo is furious, and looking for someone to punish. Unfortunately, he has Anilia to focus on.” Vir then added, “And Lennier.”

“The Minbari? The one who works for the Alliance? Is he involved in this?”

“No, he was just inconveniently here. It won’t matter to Londo, either way. Lyta made it sound as though the Alliance was behind her ideas, but I have my doubts about that.”

“What should we do?” asked Ker, coughing a bit, as he sat shivering in the chair.

Vir looked at him dispassionately. He’d obviously spent the night on the run. “You will go upstairs and get cleaned up, get something to eat, and then you probably ought to get some sleep. I will contact my servant and tell her to take a few days off so you won’t be seen. Then I will head back to the Palace to see if I can reason with Londo.”

Ker said, “I need to let the others know where I am.”

“Can you do that without alerting the authorities? And don’t invite them here; I’m in enough trouble without personally hosting a rebellion,” Vir replied. He showed Ker to the upstairs room where Lennier had been staying, gave him some towels, and spare clothes, and left him there.

When he reached the Palace, he sent a message to Londo saying he would be waiting in the gardens. It was a little preemptory, but he was losing patience with his Emperor. He was in a difficult position; he had been working behind Londo’s back for years now, trying to ameliorate the worst of the Emperor’s transgressions, and carefully laying the groundwork for his successor. He knew intellectually that it was predicted to be himself, and Londo had set him up as his heir, but he didn’t really believe he would live long enough to take the throne. Still, eventually, Londo would die, or be killed, or who knows, even step down voluntarily, and someone would have to take over. Londo hadn’t been a bad ruler, all in all, a bit dictatorial, an authoritarian to be sure, but most Centauri leaders were worse. Still, some of his decisions seemed to come out of thin air and made no sense. Like the decisions to continue Cartagia’s exile of the telepaths, and the underground attempts to restrict them even further; Vir still had no idea what lay behind that. He looked up at a slight noise, and saw Londo and his entourage of guards approaching. He watched as his old mentor waved away the guards, and approached him alone. It was strange how that display of trust warmed his heart.

“Well, Vir! How are you feeling this fine morning?” Londo asked cheerfully.

Vir wondered how to take this display. Londo in a good mood was only slightly less frightening than Londo in a bad mood. “I didn’t get much sleep. Worrying you know. About my sister, and my friend.”

“I have good news for you then! Your sister is fine, enjoying her stay. Lennier, well, he is stubborn, you remember that, Vir? The Minbari never like to be pushed. They are proud, I think. It’s a shame.”

“What’s a shame?” Vir asked quickly, trying to hide the panic he felt rising within him.

“Oh, nothing. I’m sure it will all work out. He needs a little more persuasion, you understand? We need to know what he knows. I’m sure he will come to appreciate that, and tell us.”

“Londo, Lennier is not involved in this! I am certain of it. Please let me see him, talk to him,” pleaded Vir.

“I do not think that would be wise. No, not at all wise.” Londo looked at his friend shrewdly. “Perhaps they will come after him, the Alliance?”

Vir decided to speak honestly, “I would not be surprised. He has many friends, important friends. Friends who would not like to see him…damaged.”

Londo laughed, “Ah yes, Sheridan, I suppose, and of course, his beloved Delenn! But they would not bother about Lennier if he were not here working for them, would they?”

At that Vir completely lost patience, “Of course they would bother! He is their friend, a comrade-in-arms! And he is not working for them here, not now!”

Londo had turned away, to lean down and admire a budding star-lily. “So he has been here working for them before? What was that about, do you suppose? And why does the Alliance keep bothering us? We are not a member of their little group, and have no desire to be!”

Vir ground his teeth at his lapse. “I rather think they would leave you alone, if they thought you would leave them alone. Perhaps you should look to yourself for the answers you seek.”

“Perhaps I should.” Londo replied, smiling grimly. “I’m afraid I have to go now, Vir, affairs of state. It is always pleasant to speak with you. Come back tomorrow, or the day after. We will discuss your sister’s fate then.” He waved his hand in dismissal, and Vir was forced to bow, and wait for Londo to depart before he could leave. It was hard to hide his dismay. He was going back home, to speak with Ker. If Londo could not be persuaded to let Anilia and Lennier go, they would have to find a way to set them free themselves.

 

Susan had gone back to her quarters and packed. She knew this was going to be difficult, but she felt John and Delenn had left her no choice. Whether the others followed her or not, she was leaving for Centauri Prime. She picked up her bag, and headed for the docks. She called ahead and asked the other captains to meet her at the terminal, in the briefing room.

When she entered the room, they were waiting. Two Minbari, and two human Rangers, and their seconds, were already seated at the circular table. She took a deep breath, and told them what had happened. She’d chosen her people carefully; they all had worked closely with her since her appointment as Anla’Shok Na, and they had each worked with Lennier as well. She didn’t pull any punches; she let them know the President and Entil’zha’s decision, and that she was planning to ignore their wishes, and go ahead with a rescue attempt. Her plan was to show up with a few ships, request an audience with Londo, imply that the rest of the Rangers were behind her, and spook him into letting Lennier go. If that didn’t work, well, she would play it by ear at that point. She hoped Vir would have some ideas as well; he knew Londo better than anyone.

The Rangers looked at her, and each other. One of the Minbari simply nodded his assent, and asked permission to speak with his crew. He wanted to give any of them that wished to stay the option to debark now. The other Minbari shook her head, and said she would not be going, but would respect Anla’Shok Na’s request for silence in the matter. The two humans wanted to talk it over, and Susan left them to it. Her own crew had to be given the choice to stay or leave as well. She walked up the ramp to the ship, and after she got to the bridge, requested the com officer open an interior channel. She went over it all again, and let them have ten minutes to consider. It wasn’t much time to decide whether they would be honoring or betraying their vows by following her against the wishes of her superiors, but she couldn’t spare more time than that. She hoped there would be enough crew left to man three ships; she wasn’t sure her plan, such as it was, would work with two, or God forbid, only one ship.

After the time was up, she asked her second to take a count of who was left. Of her crew of fifty men and women, she had thirty-five, the bare minimum required to man the ship. Gnawing at her lip, she waited for the report from the other ships. The Minbari captain had kept his entire crew. The two humans had agreed to come with her, but managed only forty crew-members between them, so they were going to go together on one ship. She told the two captains one could choose to stay, but neither would agree to that. One said she had trained with Lennier; the other said Lennier had once saved his life, and he wouldn’t be the one to leave him behind. Susan’s eyes teared up at that, and she grimly ordered them to leave at ten minute intervals. They would meet in hyperspace, just outside the nearest jump point to Centauri Prime.

 _We’re on our way, Lennier. Hang on. I’m coming for you._

 

 

 


	3. Tho' Hell Should Bar the Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far—
> 
> In Part I: Collateral Damage, we find out Lyta Alexander has set up a homeworld for telepaths with the assistance of G'Kar. She solicits the support of the Alliance, and gets some, but not all, of what she wants.
> 
> In Part II: All Politics is Local, Lennier has stopped off on Centauri Prime prior to returning to Minbar. The Centauri telepaths rise in revolt. Londo has Lennier detained. Acting against John and Delenn's wishes, Susan leaves for Centauri Prime with a small group of Rangers to free Lennier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the Lennier/Ivanova AU, set in 2273
> 
> This portion rated PG

 

Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words.

 

 _**The Highwayman—Alfred Noyes** _

_Look for me by moonlight;_   
_Watch for me by moonlight;_

 _I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!_

 

 

Part III: Though Hell Should Bar the Way

 

Susan Ivanova paced up and down the main corridor of the White Star Arrow class ship, which she had taken without the approval or permission to conduct this quixotic rescue mission. When she wasn’t consumed with worry and anger, she wondered at her own determination. She wasn’t only disobeying orders; she’d blown the chain of command sky high. What was worse, she’d involved several dozen others in her mutiny, from newly sworn cadets to experienced Captains. She doubted she’d be able to go back after this; but if she’d delayed, if she’d obeyed orders and waited, and Lennier was killed…well, she wouldn’t have been staying then either.

She heard footsteps, and turned abruptly to see Maeve Callahan coming up behind her.

“Ranger Callahan, is it? I see you decided to go ahead with your final vows,” said Susan, glad to see a friendly face.

“Well, we’ll see how long they keep me after signing up for this trip,” answered Maeve, trying for a solemn tone, which was ruined by the broad grin that split her face.

“What are you smiling at?” Susan mock-scowled, “This is serious business!” Her face hardened, as she crashed back into reality. “Serious enough.” Sighing as she felt the weight of her decision fall back upon her, she went on, “How do you like the ship?”

“It’s great to be back out here. I hope we get a chance to take out the flyers; I could use the flight time.”

“What did you train on?”

“Oh, standard Thunderbolts and StarFurys; the usual thing, only about a decade out of date. The colonies didn’t usually get the newest and best tech. Earth kept that for herself. The Arrows have lovely little flyers; they handle like a dream.”

“I’ve barely qualified on them myself. Too busy to put in the time.”

“Maybe on our way back we could get outside…” Maeve hesitated, and then went on. “How are you holding up? If it’s okay to ask.”

“Except for the not sleeping, and the not eating, and the inability to sit still, I’m doing fine.”

“It’s just, well; I kind of know how you feel. When they took Ed away, we didn’t know what had happened for a long while. There was this constant feeling of apprehension, of always waiting for the knock on the door, or for the com to chime. You didn’t know when or from which direction, but you were always tensing for the hit.”

Susan looked at her steadily, “Yeah, that’s it exactly. In between deciding what we’re going to do when we get there, I can’t stop thinking about what he’s going through, right now.”

 

Anilia maneuvered Lennier’s head onto her lap and lifted it up, holding the crude wooden pitcher in her other hand. She managed to drip a little of the water into his mouth, but he didn’t, or couldn’t swallow. It just rolled off his lips, and onto her dress. It had taken some effort to lift him onto the stone bench, but she hated to leave him on the floor where they dropped him every time they brought him back. She only hoped she wasn’t hurting him more by moving him, but then, they would be back soon enough to pick him up, and prod him into walking out with them. He stirred and moaned, and she spoke his name, trying to bring him back to consciousness. It probably would be better for him if he didn’t wake to feel the pain, but she was desperate for someone to talk to, and even more desperate to know what was going on.

“Lennier? Are you awake?” she asked, trying to say it quietly. He’d seemed very sensitive to noises the last time he’d wakened. She wondered if the Minbari headbone was involved in hearing at all; it had been broken in two places, in one area it looked as if they had drilled a hole in it. Lennier had told her it had little feeling, but the vibration and concussive force might have caused some internal problems. Her eyes blurred with tears, as she surveyed the latest damage. They were careful to avoid breaking bones, but had no compunction about surface damage, and were skilled at causing pain that would leave no permanent physical harm. They were not concerned with scars, external or internal. Luckily Centauri women dressed in layers, and she had long since ripped up her undershift for makeshift bandages. He began to shift around, and try to sit up, but she said, “Lie still. You need to rest.”

He grunted, and sat up anyway, putting one hand to his head, “I would be glad to be still, if everything would stop spinning. How long was I gone?”

Anilia replied with a weak laugh, “You ask that each time—and each time I must remind you we have no chronometers here. It seemed shorter this time. Only one meal, if you could call it that, arrived while you were out. If they feed us twice a day, and who can tell really, we have been here a few days. I cannot imagine what is keeping our rescuers. I will have some stern words for Vir when he arrives.”

“I too. It seems he is taking his time,” said Lennier, leaning back against the cool stone wall. He had initially been glad his tormentors were amateurs, interested only in physical pain, but he was beginning to reconsider that viewpoint. He spent some of his most pleasant time here picturing what he would do to his jailers once he was freed; then he would picture what Susan would do to them when she saw him. That would work for a while, but then it would rapidly become more pain than pleasure. He estimated he could last a few more weeks at this rate, depending on whether they increased the frequency or severity of his sessions. It was completely possible that he would never see her again in this life. His head was clearing now, and he realized Anilia had been speaking to him.

“What do you think is happening? Why has no one come to question me?” she asked, almost plaintively.

“Do you wish to be questioned?” asked Lennier, then went on, “Perhaps it is Vir’s status that prevents them. They already know what you saw. They may not suspect your involvement with Ker’s group.”

“I suppose. I wish I knew what was going on! I don’t know what happened with the demonstrations, with my friends, with Ker…it’s maddening just sitting here!”

“I, too, would prefer a more comprehensive view of events. Somehow I don’t think that our captors would comply with the request.”

They sat together in silence for a moment. Lennier spoke again, “When Vir does get you out, will you go to Minbar?”

“You mean, when he gets us out.” Anilia said anxiously.

“It is possible he will not come in time.” He shook his head at her muted protests. “It would ease my mind if you promised me this. I think Vir would agree you would not be safe here after this.”

Anilia looked down at herself. Her gown was torn and dirty; she hadn’t had a bath or a decent meal in days. She smiled wanly, “Vir would not recognize me.”

“He would. He has always had a way of looking beyond the surface we show the world.”

“That’s true. You know him well, better than I do. We were separated for so much of our lives.”

Lennier looked at her appraisingly, “What I found so curious is how much you two are alike. Both of you are brave beyond reason, fearless in the pursuit of what you believe is right.”

Anilia blushed furiously. “You do me too much honour.”

“On the contrary. Now will you promise me you will go?”

She laughed, “You are both fearless and persistent. All right, I will go. But you must promise me something in return.”

He stated without hesitation, “If I can, I will. What is it you want of me?”

She started to speak, then stopped, as they heard the scrape of the key in the lock of their cell door.

 

John Sheridan in a rage was an awesome sight. Delenn thought absently it was like watching a magnificent animal stalking the room. If the situation hadn't been so serious, she might even be enjoying it. It was serious, however, and about to become more so, as she tried to explain her reasoning to her infuriated husband.

"You must go after Susan, and back up her plan. If necessary, you can relieve her and conduct the negotiations yourself, although I do not envy you that conversation."

"You must be joking! She has broken every rule in the book, defied our authority, put the Alliance on a collision course with Centauri Prime; all while we're trying to contain the fallout from the telepaths' starting outbreaks of violence to outright civil war on a dozen worlds. Damn Susan for not waiting, and damn Lyta Alexander to hell for starting this!"

Delenn waited patiently until John had stopped storming around the room, and had sat down abruptly, looking at her, and running his hand through his greying hair.

“All right, you obviously have something more to say. Let's hear it. Why is it okay with you that Susan has gone off on this crazy mission? Why couldn’t she wait?”

“The answer to the last question is simple, and you understand it well enough. She is afraid; afraid that she will lose him.”

John nodded reluctantly, “That much I got, and I do understand it. If it was you, or David, for instance…” he winced as he thought of the possibility.

She said beside him, took his hand and squeezed it, “I also understand, and sympathize. Now as for the rest…” She stared over his shoulder as if trying to translate her thoughts. “You have been Entil’zha for what, almost three years now? You led the Rangers before that, but it was in time of war, and they had been exposed to Earth combat methods and rituals by then by Jeffrey Sinclair. You have never been through Ranger training; neither have I, but I am perhaps more familiar with it, having been steeped in Anla’Shok traditions my entire life.”

John looked at her attentively, “Have I been doing something wrong? Has Susan?”

“No,” Delenn replied. “The Rangers must change and evolve as their mission changes. They have moved from being a mostly Minbari intelligence force, to a mostly human-Minbari fighting force, to a multi-species peace-keeping force. You and Susan are particularly well suited to train them for that mission, to build the many species we recruit into a community.”

John sighed, “It hasn’t been easy, has it? We ask a great deal of them.”

“We offer them a great deal. We offer them meaning in their life, a mission to be proud of, a group identity with a proud history and ancient traditions, yet one which is also adaptable and inclusive.” Delenn stopped for a moment. “It has been a long road; looking back it is hard to believe how far we, and they, have come.”

“Okay, so how does Susan’s mutiny fit into Ranger traditions? And how do we classify Lennier? He is no longer Anla’Shok, he’d say so himself.”

Delenn shook her head. “So he would. He will never forgive himself for his lapse in judgment.” She went on, “Minbari work as a group. We are never stronger than when we work together. We agree to follow a leader by conceding that leader’s suitability for the task, and acknowledging his willingness to serve. A leader is the people’s servant, the representative of their wishes. It is an honour to serve, but service often requires sacrifice. The Rangers were conceived as a unique group among Minbari; people who would train and learn to see their way among conflicting paths, to walk through the dark places, alone. Their original mission was simple; to watch and to prepare for the return of the Great Enemy. They alone among Minbari were expected to act on their own, without consulting authority, following their conscience, and their heart. If they were well trained, they would choose well. If not, they would not, and their mission would fail, to the detriment and shame of all the Anla’Shok.”

John said, “I’ve heard this before, but I don’t think I’ve come up against a situation like this before in the years I’ve been working with the Rangers. They’ve always followed orders, just like an EarthForce command. How is this different?”

“It is difficult to explain. Susan’s instincts are those of a Ranger, although she has only gotten partial training as of yet. She is walking her own path, following her heart, but she also gave her captains and their crews the information and let them make choices. There is not always the luxury of discussion during battles, and in times of war. Here there was, and she did the correct thing. It remains to be seen if her decision was the correct one. I believe it was.”

“So the ends justify the means? Is that what this boils down to?”

Delenn sighed, “It is difficult, as I said. If a Ranger is well trained, and listens to his heart, he will not make the wrong decision. He lives for the One…”

“Susan asked about that. I’ve always assumed the One was Valen, though there was that cryptic pronouncement of Zathras’ on the White Star. I never understood that.”

“Valen established the Rangers. Our records show the vow concerning the One came afterwards, and it is believed to refer to Valen. As for you and I; others long after we are gone will decide what status we attained in our lives. Zathras had a unique perspective, given him by his long study and service to the Great Machine, but his is not the only one. Living and dying for the One does not necessarily mean mindlessly following orders; it means incorporating their views and wishes and goals into your heart, so you move in the right direction and make the right decisions. The Anla’Shok is like…what is that silvery metal you showed me? The one that flows like water?”

“Mercury?”

“It had another name, a nicer one.”  
“Oh, quicksilver.”

“That’s it. The Anla’Shok is like quicksilver. The individuals can move and act on their own, as beads of the metal do, but they can also flow together, and form a larger, stronger group to act together. In a way, all Anla’Shok are the One.”

John shook his head. “I still don’t know what’s right in this situation.”

Delenn laughed, “If Entil’zha does not know, then who does? Leaving aside the issue of the telepaths, and the political situation, which is properly my concern as President, what does your heart tell you to do?”

He looked at her and sighed, “You always do this, don’t you? All right, if it was up to me, I’d go after Susan, and help her get Lennier out of this. It goes against the grain to leave him there, and it sets a bad example besides. We should at least try to get him out, and waiting on the Grey Council to make a decision might very well leave it too late.”

“Then go. Leave me to handle the Alliance members, and the telepath problem.” She rose, and pulled him up off the couch. “It’s late now. Come to bed, and start after her in the morning. Bring them both back, and bring yourself as well.” She leaned against him, and said, “Be careful, my love. Londo will try to use Lennier’s freedom to gain something from us. I am just not sure what that will be.”

He put his arm around her, and they walked towards their bedroom. “There’s always a price. I’ll just make sure it’s one we can afford to pay.”

 

Londo had refused to see him the last three days, ignoring his requests, and dodging him in the Senate chambers and elsewhere in the Palace, but today Vir was determined to see the prisoners. He felt sick at the thought of what they must be going through. He and Ker were working out a plan to engineer an escape, so he had a second mission today, to contact Larra and obtain her assistance. There was an upcoming feast day that Vir felt might provide cover for their attempt to free Anilia and Lennier. Ker was still hiding out in Vir’s townhouse, to Vir’s chagrin; but it was simply not safe for him to go home, which was undoubtedly being watched. Every day, when Ker snuck out to meet his telepaths, he risked being caught, or worse, leading the guard back to his hiding place. That would certainly not help Vir’s case. He had been working on his allies and contacts in the Centaurum, but while he got many private expressions of sympathy, no one was willing to back him in confronting Londo. The riots and the show of power by the telepaths had rattled many in the government.

Vir was waiting for Londo in the Emperor’s private suite. Long ago Londo had warned him against intruding on him there, but these were desperate times. The guard at the end of the corridor had turned a blind eye to Vir’s incursion; Vir had many sympathizers among the guard, and a few of them were aghast at Londo’s jailing of a Centauri gentlewoman. While waiting, Vir mused on that fact that a pretty girl was an incredible asset when planning insurrection and subversion. He wondered if that was a universal truth, and decided it must be.

Hearing noises from the corridor, he took his place carefully. He wanted to be out in the open, yet not visible upon Londo's immediate scan of the room. Hopefully, he would look around, dismiss the guards, and then notice Vir. If he had hidden away, the implications would be terrible. Londo might assume anything from an attempt at spying to an attempt at assassination. So he sat in a red plush chair with gilded arms, by the open window at the back of the suite. The curtains billowed in the slight breeze; it was spring on Centauri Prime, normally one of his favorite times of year. He could smell the slight perfume from the earliest blooming flowers in the gardens below the window. He thought of leaning out to look at the gardens, but the thought of the guards stationed outside that might notice his presence and shoot his head off dissuaded him. There was also the small matter of the iron bars across the window frame. They looked delicate and decorative, but he knew they were solid iron, and firmly fixed in place. Londo lived in a cage, Vir thought sadly.

The bustle grew louder, and finally the door opened. Londo came in, laughter on his lips as he spoke over his shoulder to some members of the Royal Court who had accompanied him. He said his good-byes with boisterous enthusiasm, then asked the guard to stay outside. It was all going as Vir had hoped. Londo shut the door, then walked slowly into the room, his face collapsing into its habitual weary scowl. Vir studied his old mentor for a moment; he had aged in office, as Emperors often did. Londo's personality was so out-sized and dramatic, that his growing frailty went unnoticed. Vir noticed, and it filled him with sorrow. He realized that Londo had gotten everything for which he had wished, schemed, manipulated, and compromised. Yet he still saw some of the old honour and patriotism that had drawn him to the man in the first place; and let him call him friend, as well as Ambassador, Prime Minister, and finally Emperor. He still hoped that Londo would find a final redemption of sorts, though he had no idea what that would entail or require.

Clearing his throat as means of preamble to announcing his presence, Vir rose and said, "Londo? I need to speak with you."

"Vir? How did you get in here?" Londo sounded disconcerted. "What are you doing here? Who let you in?" Now he was practically shouting.

"You told me to return in three days, and here I am. I want to see my sister, and Lennier. There is no reason not to allow it. I simply want to ascertain how they are doing." Vir tried to sound both harmless and non-threatening.

Londo grunted non-commitally. "It is not that easy."

"Why not? You are the Emperor. Call in your guards, and tell them to escort me to their cell. I won't take long."

Londo stared at his old protégé, his eyes hooded and unreadable. "Perhaps…"

He was interrupted by a loud alarm from the comscreen on the painted wooden desk next to the chair where Vir was seated. Londo barked out, "Yes?" The screen wavered, and a young Centauri with a low crest and subservient manner appeared.

"Your Excellency? There is an incoming message I thought you needed to see."

"You thought? Who asked you to start thinking! What message is so important that you risk your career to interrupt me?"

The male Centauri blanched, and said in frightened tones, "She says her name is Ivanova, and that you will speak with her. I think she is a Ranger, Excellency. She did not wait for a reply; just said she would meet you in thirty minutes, in the Imperial throne room. There are reports of Alliance ships, White Stars, in orbit around Centauri Prime, your grace. What would you have me do?"

Londo smiled. "Nothing. I would have you do nothing." Then he turned to Vir, who was staring at the screen, his expression tense, but not surprised. "Well, Vir! Let us get you on your way to visit your sister! I am sure she has been eagerly awaiting this." He strode towards the door, opened it, and asked the guard to come inside. Then he gave the guard instructions to accompany Vir to the cells, let him in, wait outside, then escort him back to the throne room within thirty minutes. "I am sorry you cannot have more time for your visit, but I am sure you will want to be there to greet Ivanova. It has been quite the reunion lately, has it not? Perhaps we will see Delenn, or Sheridan, next, hmm?" He laughed out loud, then shooed Vir and the guard from the room. As the door closed, his smile wavered only slightly, as he muttered. "I need to get monitors into the older cells. It would be so useful right now." A thought seemed to strike him, "Perhaps there is another way." He opened the door again, and called down the hallway, “Guard!”

 

Vir almost cringed at the state of the Palace dungeons. The hallway was dim and damp, smelling of fungoid growth and stale air. When he brushed up against the stone walls, the surface felt slimy. He swallowed hard, trying to contain his anxiety and his anger. His sister had been here now for three days, and he was going to get her out, one way or the other. He tried hard to pay attention to where they were, counting paces from the central corridor, and memorizing the turns they took on their way to the cell. The dungeon area was a maze, but he was hopeful they could trace the path on an upper floor, and translate that to an approximation of the prisoner’s location below. If Larra had any idea of tunnels or passageways that would get them near to the cell unseen, Ker swore he and a few select allies could do the rest. He had told Ker of Anilia’s concern about using telepathy inside the Palace, but the telepath was certain he could overcome any block, and get out before an alarm was raised. The plan and its uncertainties made Vir’s stomach hurt; he wished he had more faith in Ker’s abilities. They had stopped outside a thick wooden door, with sturdy iron hinges and stained and broken brass inlays. Vir peered closely at them; he thought he could discern the seal of the First Emperor. This was indeed an old area of the dungeon. He and his guard had been joined by one of the prison guards, who was sorting through a ring of heavy iron keys.

“The newer cells all have electronic locks. They keep promising up an upgrade, but then the Senate relents and talks about tradition and keeping up the old ways. Harumph. Bunch of old women..” he looked over at Vir nervously, “Begging your pardon, Ser. Present company excepted. No one ever comes down here though, so I don’t see the use of keeping up tradition if no one ever sees it.”

“So you don’t keep many prisoners here?” Vir asked companionably, trying to keep his voice level.

“No, Ser. There’s no one else on this floor right now. Upstairs, now, it’s pretty full. Lots of agitators against our Emperor, crazy folk they are. Some of them high-born by the look of them.”

Vir thought briefly of a few friends he hadn’t heard from lately, but there was no time to question the guard, who had located the key and maneuvered it into the lock. Vir said, preemptorily, “Wait outside, the two of you. I wish to interview the prisoners in private.”

The prison guard looked reluctant. “Are you sure, Ser? I would not want anything to happen to you. I hear tell one of them’s a dangerous off-worlder, and the other’s a rebel…one of those telepaths that killed those soldiers the other day.”

“I’ll be fine. The responsibility is mine. Your fellow guard can be a witness that I said so.”

The Imperial guard said, “You don’t have long, Ser. I have to get you back up to the throne room, as the Emperor ordered. We’ll be outside.” He took up his position, and indicated to the prison guard that he should wait also.

The door opened slowly, and Vir looked inside, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. There were two figures at the far end, seated on a stone bench. One sat up straight, then stood and flew into his arms.

“Vir! You’ve come at last!”

Vir embraced his sister, hugging her hard, wishing he had better news for her. He pushed her gently away, looking her up and down for signs of mistreatment. Aside from looking dirty and scared, she seemed all right. Aware his time was limited, he turned his attention to Lennier, who had risen also, although more slowly, as if movement was painful. Vir couldn’t see any obvious marks of torture, aside from surface cuts and bruises, although his friend’s stiff movements, clenched smile, and sunken eyes spoke of unseen damage. “Are you all right?” his voice came out harsh, but the tone was broken by his grasp of Lennier’s arm in greeting.

“I am fine, but a little tired of these accommodations. The entertainment is also not to my liking,” Lennier said solemnly, with only a slight grimace. “It is a trifle one-sided in its appeal.”

Vir nodded, then went on quickly, “I haven’t come to take you out, not yet. Londo finally granted me permission to see you, and I am working on your release, but nothing so far. However, there is a recent development, which I’m sure you’ll find interesting. Ivanova is here.”

Lennier staggered, and Vir quickly put his arm around his friend’s shoulder, and guided him back to the bench. Anilia followed anxiously.

“Susan? She came herself? I mean, I wasn’t sure they would send anyone…she didn’t come alone, did she? Vir, you must tell her to take care!” an agitated Lennier declared.

“I go from here to the Throne Room, where she is to speak with Londo directly.” Vir chuckled a bit, “She didn’t give him any choice. It wasn’t a request, but a directive!”

“Vir, two things. You must not let her bargain for my release; it will come to no good. The Grey Council will get me out of here eventually in any case. They will not let a Minbari languish in a Centauri prison for long. The other is that you must get Susan to take Anilia back to Minbar with her.”

Vir stared, “Minbar? Why in the name of the Great Maker would I do that?” He turned to his sister, “Do you want to do this? Not that it might not be safer for you, but…I would miss you.”

Anilia smiled, lowering her eyes to hide her tears, “And I you, brother. I must go, however. I've promised because it's important. I…”

Just then the door flew open, and the Imperial guard entered the room. “Ser, it is time.” He stepped aside, and another pair of guards appeared, . “Come, Minbari. Time to go.”

They started to take Lennier roughly by the arms when Vir intervened.

“Let him walk on his own!” The guards looked both confused at this. He continued, “On my order--he will go with you peaceably, on my honour as a Senator.”

Lennier nodded in agreement, grateful not to be hauled out bodily once more, although he wondered if the guards would take it out on him later. The guards moved to let him go ahead of them, then closed behind him as he left the cell.

Vir nodded at his escort, then turned back to the Anilia. “I won’t forget, any of it. I’ll be back, as soon as I can.” He started to speak, but his voice seemed lost in the bare cell. “I have to go now.” He took a moment to embrace Anilia once more, and then he was gone. She was alone once more.

 

Susan straightened her already stiff back, adjusting her Ranger cloak around her shoulders with her pin showing to advantage. John had custody of Valen's cloak these days, not that the symbolism of the ancient garment would mean much to Londo. Her Ranger garb would do well enough, with the power of the orbiting White Stars behind her. She fingered the pin a moment, thinking of Marcus as she always did. It was odd; Lennier had been Anla'Shok as well, but she had never seen him in that role and she didn't associate him with the Rangers.

Leaving her quarters, she found her honor guard waiting, two on either side of the door. The senior Ranger, a Minbari named Turlann, faced her and stood to attention. "The flyer you requested is ready, Anla'Shok Na."

"Good, we're ready to beard the lion in his den, then."

One of the Rangers behind her stifled a laugh, and she turned to see it was Maeve. "Now how did you wangle this mission, Ranger Callahan? I asked Jamison to ask for volunteers from among the more experienced crew members."

"There were so many volunteers that he decided the last slot would be filled by lottery, Anla'Shok Na. I won!"

Watching Maeve's eyes gleam with enthusiasm, Susan was taken back to her feelings when she was first posted off world. She smiled, "All right then, but take your cues from Turlann. He's been to Centauri Prime before; he's familiar with their culture. Turlann, you’re responsible for her. All of you, listen up. We are not here to start a fight. We want to get Lennier, and get the hell out of here. That's the goal. We're not sure exactly what's going on. From monitoring their communications and newsnets it seems they're still actively seeking the telepaths who rioted a few days ago. We're walking into a beehive; be careful not to get stung."

Susan turned on her heel and smartly set off to the flyer bays.

The Rangers fell in behind her, and Maeve muttered to herself, "He might not have a beard, but this lion sure has an impressive mane." Turlann quelled her with a stern look.

 

Turlann piloted the flyer with Susan sitting in the co-pilot's seat. The Rangers were silent, spending the short flight time in meditation or thought. Susan wished she could concentrate enough to pray. If there ever was a situation that called for divine intervention, this was it. She had no idea what she was going to do if Londo called her bluff.

Once the flyer gained clearance to land; it was led into an open dock by a computerized program of directed lights, and then they prepared to debark. Susan thought the landing system was excellent, completely language and culture independent. The Centauri had been a space-faring race concentrating on interstellar trade for hundreds of years, and it showed. She turned to her crew, and indicated to two of the Rangers that they were to stay with the ship. "Don't let anyone aboard. You have my private code; contact me if anyone approaches the ship. We may need to leave in a hurry. Maeve, you and Turlann are with me. Remain distant and respectful. Remember the Centauri are extremely hierarchal; they will watch you to gauge my status." She grinned momentarily to take the edge off their tension. "My status, of course, is of the highest." She turned towards the door, and ordered, "Open it."

As they exited the flyer, they found, as expected, a contingent of the Imperial Guard waiting. The leader approached Susan, bowing respectfully, and telling her they were there to escort her to the Emperor. Susan nodded without answering, and gestured to the guard to precede her. Her Rangers fell in behind her, keeping close, and staring straight ahead, while remaining hyper-vigilant.

At the entrance to the Throne Room, the guards split ranks, and lined the corridor. _Making it hard for us to retreat the way we came_ , thought Susan. The leader of the guards hit the brass circle embedded in the door with his closed gloved fist, and it resounded with a deep 'bong'. The doors were pulled open from inside by other guards. Susan took a deep breath, and stepped into the room. Londo was seated on a throne at the opposite end of the room, with a deep red carpet leading up to it. The throne was about what she'd expected; gold, ornate, and ugly. It looked uncomfortable too. She bowed her head deeply, trusting Turlann to make sure Maeve was doing the same. She wasn't sure what impulse had led her to pick the younger woman to accompany her and she hoped it wouldn't prove a bad idea. She waited patiently for Londo to acknowledge their presence, and gesture them forward. She never expected what happened next.

"Ivanova!" Londo came forward rapidly, and embraced her deeply, kissing first one cheek and then the other. Susan could feel Maeve, on her left, tense, and risked a wave of her hand behind her back to show it was all right.

“Emperor Mollari,” Susan said, cautiously returning the embrace and gently patting the Centauri’s back, “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Is it?” asked Londo, his voice only slightly sarcastic. “Is it, indeed?” He walked back towards the throne, seated himself, and went on, “I think I know why you have come to visit. Not to see me, not even to see Vir…he will be here momentarily, by the way.” He picked at the flocked red velvet on the arm of his chair, looking past her towards the door, as if looking for someone. “You’re here about Lennier, is that it?”

Susan had to stop herself turning and staring out the door herself. “That’s right. He’s an employee of ours, well, of President Delenn’s, and when we heard his vacation had been interrupted…well, let’s just say I was in the neighborhood, and thought I would stop by and see what was going on.”

“In the neighborhood? With three White Stars? Were you looking for a good place to sample Centauri cuisine? Or perhaps scouting out our territory?” With that last statement, he leaned forward, looking hard at her. “Alliance ships are not welcome here, Ivanova. I thought you would understand that.”

“Maybe we’ll pass on the food then. We would still like to know why you’ve detained Lennier.” Susan had never felt so tense; this was some sort of cat-and-mouse game.

Just then, the door gong boomed again, and Vir bustled inside. “Ivanova!” he blurted, then gave her a short ceremonial bow. “It is good to see you!”

“Yesss. So I was just saying, Vir. And how was your lovely sister? Doing well? No complaints, I hope. I would hate to hear that she is unhappy.” Londo smiled unpleasantly.

“She is well,” said Vir, looking directly at Susan. “So is Lennier. He was surprised to hear you were here.”

Susan rejoiced inwardly, but simply nodded, “As I was just explaining to the Emperor, we were in the neighborhood.” She turned back to Londo, “We were hoping to take him off your hands. Can you tell me what the problem is? Has he been dabbling in the black market? Offending native customs?”

Londo laughed, “Nothing of the sort! The Minbari are always scrupulous about honouring foreign traditions. Except when they are hunting you to your death, of course, for some infraction of their own customs!” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “It seems that Lennier has been unable to answer any of our questions so far. Perhaps you could convince him to be more…open, with us. Then, when we are finished, we might be able to let him go.” He signaled to a guard by the door, “Escort Ranger Ivanova to the blue conference room on this floor. The prisoner is waiting for her there.” He turned to Susan, and said, “I can’t spare much more time today. Your escort may wait outside the conference room. I would prefer you all go back to your ship when you are done. We can speak again tomorrow.”

Vir burst in, “I was planning to have Ivanova stay with me, or at least stop for dinner. May we have your permission, Emperor?”

Londo looked as if he would like to disagree out of general disagreeableness, but nodded, “All right. Dinner, but then they go back. I cannot guarantee an off-worlder’s safety, and would hate to further annoy the Alliance.” He practically spit out the last word. He rose, and said, “Walk with me, Vir. I have something to discuss with you. You can meet Ivanova at the main gate. I will have the guard escort her there.”

Vir grabbed Susan hastily by the arm. He spoke hurriedly, under his breath, “That room is monitored. Be careful what you say. I’ll wait for you at the gate.”

 

Susan stood at the door, pausing a moment to collect her thoughts. Her emotions she’d given up on already; the best she could hope for was tight control. Acting had never been one of her strengths. She opened the door, looking back briefly at Turlann and Maeve, who took up positions on either side of the door, and went inside.

Lennier was sitting at a rectangular table centered in the room. The chairs had padded seats and ornately carved wooden arms, and the table was highly polished wood of some kind, yellowish in color. His hands were flat on the table in front of him, and she wondered if he’d been trying to meditate, whether he had known that she would be coming in right then. She wondered what had happened in the time he’d been held. Avoiding his gaze for a moment, afraid of her reaction once their eyes met, she tried to quickly determine his condition. She noted that his usual tan jacket was torn and spotted with what looked to be bloodstains. The soft dingy white shirt underneath was open at the throat, and she could just see a long red cut that started below one ear and extended across his throat and down his chest. There was a large rip in the left sleeve, through the jacket as well, that looked to be from a knife. There were clumsy bandages tied around his upper left arm, visible through the rip, and around his right hand. There was a large ugly bruise on his cheek, and another one his forehead. The headbone was cracked in two places, and one deep gash in it seemed to be infected.

He watched her without moving, taking in her clean scent from across the room. Humans washed so often, they had a pleasant soapy smell to Minbari. Her hair was tied severely back, and he thought he could see more grey in it than he remembered. He hoped it was not due to the situation in which he'd found himself. Her arms were stretched taut behind her back, hands clasped as if she was trying to keep them still, and he could see tension in every muscle of her body. He waited, wondering what she was thinking.

“Well, Mr. Lennier. Quite a bit of trouble you’ve found yourself in. I’ve asked the Emperor to consider setting you free…he’s thinking about it. Probably let us know tomorrow. If he does, would you like a ride home? We’re on our way back now.”

Lennier blinked. Her words were not what he’d expected, but he’d learned early on to read Susan from her body posture and her expressive eyes, rather than her words. She tended to say things in such a manner that they could easily be misinterpreted. Those eyes were fixed on his now, pleading for understanding. He nodded once, trying to show he’d understood, then answered carefully, “That would be very convenient. I find myself tired of travel. It would be good to be home.” He tried to put a layer of warmth on the last word that would let her know he meant home, with her.

She flushed, taking his meaning at once. “I’ll see what I can do. Have they been treating you well? Su E’san?” For all her effort at nonchalance, her voice cracked on this last question. _Are you all right?_

He nodded again, “Well enough. There has been some difficulty, but nothing serious.” He continued, picking his words delicately, “I have even been provided company in my rooms. Vir Cotto, you remember Vir? His sister has been kind enough to stop by. I have invited her to visit me on Minbar at some point in the future.”

Susan stared at him, uncertain where he was going with this. “That would be nice.”

“Yes,” Lennier went on, “Very nice. I sincerely hope it may come to pass.” He emphasized the word ‘sincerely’ willing her to read in his eyes the urgency of his request.

“I’m sure it will,” she replied. There was a bang on the door. “I guess our time is up,” Susan’s throat tightened, closing down on all the words she couldn’t say.

Lennier rose, and approached her slowly. He put one hand on his chest and extended the other towards her. She reciprocated, letting her hand briefly rest over his heart, feeling the quick fluttering under her fingers, terribly aware of the fragility of that rapid beat. Tears stung her eyes, and she whispered, “Nee’zhalen, Lennier.”

“Nee’zhalen, Susan.” He watched as she walked away, trying to make himself believe he’d see her again.

 

Londo was walking slowly towards the Imperial residence with Vir trotting at his heels. Suddenly he turned into a side hallway, gesturing to the guards to stop, and took Vir’s arm, pulling him close. “I am releasing your sister, Vir. She will be waiting at the main gate for you. Take her away from here, preferably out of the city for a while.”

Vir started to speak, questions clambering out of his throat, but Londo shushed him.

“Just go, all right? I’ll speak to you later, when things calm down.”

“But, Londo,” Vir finally managed to get out, “What about Lennier?”

“He will have to stay.” Vir started to protest, but Londo said sternly, “You have your family back, Vir. Do not tempt me to rescind this generous offer. If I change my mind, you will not see her for a very long while. Now, go!” He strode back in to the main corridor, and headed towards his suite of rooms, guards moving into place in front and behind him.

Vir stared for a moment, then scurried off. It was a long walk to the main gate, and now he had to meet up with both Anilia and Ivanova and her Rangers. It wouldn’t do to be late. He hurried down the corridors, largely empty except for guards as it was approaching time for the evening meal. The Centauri took great pride is setting aside adequate time to appreciate good food and wine, and the meal that started at sunset was the most important of the day. It often lasted through the night, of course, but no one saw anything wrong with that. Late morning was early enough to start the business of the day. Vir left the main building which contained the throne room and the imperial residence and started across the paved plaza, heading towards the main gate. He saw a group of guards, surrounding the small band of Rangers, leave a side entrance, and head in the same direction. Circling the large central fountain, he walked along the reflecting pool that extended from the fountain almost to the gate. It was getting late, and the lights that lined the pool glittered in the darkening water. A few early stars were reflected as well. When he reached the sentry box, he identified himself to the guards there, and asked one of them to hail a groundtaxi, large enough for six people. While one guard stepped outside the gate to find him transportation, the other, and older male, gestured to Vir, and pointed to the shadows behind the box.

"She's over there, Ser, the one you're waiting for." He tssked in disapproval, "Gentlewoman by the looks of her, shouldn't be allowed, that. Using ladies of that class for their pleasure. The Court's gone downhill; never the same since Turhan's day. He was a real honorable gentleman, he was." At Vir's shocked look, he backtracked quickly, "Oh, not to say anything against Emperor Mollari, mind you! It's some in the Court, is all." He swallowed convulsively, "Don't report me, Ser. I didn't mean anything by it. I've only a year to go to my retirement, and I speak too freely."

Vir hastened to assure the man he wouldn't dream of reporting him, then peered into the shadows. A figure sat on the ground, enveloped in a dark hooded cape. "Anilia?" he called in a hoarse whisper.  
"It's me. They told me to stay out of sight. Is it safe now?"

"Wait a moment. Once the taxi's here, and the rest of our party, we'll get you home."

Vir didn't wait to answer Anilia's questions about who else was coming, as simultaneously the guard returned to tell him the car was at the gate, and Susan and the other Rangers approached with their phalanx of Imperial guards. Susan remained remotely silent, while Turlann consulted with Vir, and directed Susan and the others into the car. Vir followed with Anilia clinging to his arm.

Safely inside the car, the group fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Maeve alone spent some time looking out the window, and Vir felt it incumbent upon him to point out the sights. Her enthusiasm, muted out of respect for the others, was pleasant; Vir loved his city, and enjoyed showing it off to others. It was a short ride to his townhouse, a long walk even, although with this group the anonymity of the cab was preferable.

Susan sat between Turlann and Maeve, moodily staring at the floor. After telling Turlann to notify the others to stay with the ship, she had lapsed into silence. She knew things had not gone well today. Londo had seemed singularly unimpressed, and she still didn’t know why Vir’s sister had been visiting Lennier in the first place, and even more, why she was supposed to be taking the woman back to Minbar. She had not idea what to do next, except continue on as she had begun, hoping that Londo would either change his mind, or some miracle would intervene. Hopefully Vir would have some ideas.

Anilia surreptitiously studied the human woman seated across from her. Lennier hadn’t said much about Susan Ivanova, but one didn’t need to be a telepath to sense the depth of his feelings. Vir had spoken admiringly of her in the past. She didn’t seem that special to her, an older human female, lines etched around her mouth and eyes, a scowl on her face. Her figure was good enough, she supposed, and with her hair skinned back so tight against her head, you almost didn’t notice the unsightly masses of it. Looking over at Vir chatting happily with the other human, she wondered again at his casual acceptance of these aliens.

When they arrived, Vir offered an arm first to Maeve, then Anilia. Susan jumped down by herself, and Turlann followed. The hovering groundcar took off. They entered the house, which was dark. Vir palmed the nearest light on a small table in the hall. Suddenly Susan shouted, “Someone’s here!” and in a sudden flurry, Vir and Anilia found themselves flattened against the wall, watched carefully by Maeve, while Turlann pelted down the hallway, denn’bok extended.

Keeping one eye on the Centauri, uncertain whether they were friend or foe, Maeve called worriedly, “Anla’Shok Na! What’s wrong?” Susan was clutching her head in pain, and swearing volubly.

Turlann came back down the hall, marching a Centauri male in front of him, with one arm across his throat. “Don’t move. If I press too hard, just here, your ability to speak, or even to breathe, may be lost.”

Susan had straightened, and walked over to Ker, demanding, “Who are you, and why did you try to scan us when we came in? Are you working for Londo? What are you doing here?”

Vir made a gesture, and immediately found Maeve’s grim attention fixed on him as he spoke hesitantly, “Ivanova? Ker is here as my guest?”

“What was he doing in my head? Unusual sort of guest, Vir,” said Susan grumpily, signaling Turlann to relax his grip, but not to release Ker yet.

Ker, to his credit, didn’t try to struggle. He simply said, “It was dark, and I was not expecting a group of people. I thought you were the guards; someone come to take me or perhaps Vir…” his voice broke off as he caught sight of Anilia beside Vir. “Anilia?”

Now he broke free, or Turlann released him, it was not clear what happened first, and he rushed over to her. After a quick but heartfelt embrace, he held her at arms’ length, and said, “What happened? Are you all right?”

Anilia returned the embrace with pleasure, though perhaps a little less than Ker’s. Vir looked on uneasily, then stepped into the corridor, asking, “Are you recovered, Ivanova? Let me turn on more lights, and arrange some refreshments. We have a great deal to talk about,” he said over his shoulder as he moved to the kitchen, “And plans to be made. And not much time for either.”

Susan indicated to Turlann that he should accompany his host. Anilia murmured that she was going upstairs to change. Ker showed Maeve and Susan to the sitting room, then went to the kitchen to assist Vir. Susan sat down on the nearest chair, a plush armchair by the door, and rubbed her temples

“How are you feeling? What happened?” asked Maeve anxiously.

“He tried to scan me. I can always tell. The headache must be because he’s Centauri; never happens with humans.”

“Huh,” Maeve said. “How do you do that?”

“Don’t know. Born that way,” Susan replied tersely. Her feelings at that moment were explosive, and she did not care to indulge in casual conversation. When Vir came in from the kitchen with a variety of cold meats and relishes, and assorted beverages, it was a welcome respite. Anilia joined them, and the tension started to unwind a bit. Vir took one look at Susan, who had settled back into the deep chair, her face half-hidden in the lamplight. She wasn’t eating or drinking. He poured a generous tot of brevari, and took it to her, sitting on a couch next to her chair. The others weren’t exactly chatting, but the sharing of food, brewing of tea, pouring of drinks, occupied them sufficiently that Vir could speak softly, and directly, to Susan.

“Have a drink. You look like you need one,” he said, proferring the small crystal glass.

Susan took it, and held it up to the light. “I always thought this stuff was a beautiful color, that deep amber-gold.” She took a small sip, then tilted her head back and swallowed the remainder. “You know, I haven’t had a drink in at least a year. You know the Minbari don’t like it.”

“It has some effect on them, was always the rumour. But they held weaknesses of that sort close.”

“Yeah, it’s something like that. I’m not sure either. I emptied out the stock I had left when Lennier…” her voice trailed off.

“How was it? Seeing him, I mean?” Vir tried to speak matter-of-factly. He had to help her draw down the tension, or she would be no use to them in their plans.

“All right, I suppose. Surface wounds, nothing that won’t heal, and the Minbari heal pretty quickly. It was just, hard, seeing him there, knowing Londo was probably watching. Damn him anyway! There’s something else going on, something I don’t know about. If we can’t figure it out, I’ve got very little leverage.”

“You have the White Stars. You have the Alliance.” Vir sounded confused, and slightly apprehensive.

“Yes, well. Vir, I meant to tell you about that.” Susan had just started her confession when her comlink sounded.

 

“Anla’Shok Na?” the tinny voice sounded over the link. It was one of her Rangers, from the flyer. “We’ve had a message from our ship in orbit. There is a group of White Stars approaching from the jump point. They will be within hailing range within the hour. Your instructions?”

“Monitor their approach. Greet them when they arrive. Pass on any messages to me directly. We should be done here within that time, and on our way back up. Ivanova out.”

She sighed loudly and said to Vir, “The short version of the story is that the Alliance is not behind me in this. They may be coming to make me stand down. Let’s go over your plans quickly, and see if there is any way I can help--while I still can.”

Vir shook his head in disbelief, but cleared the low table in front of them, setting the trays and dishes on the sideboard. He rolled out a plan of the Palace, and spoke to Ker, “I did as you asked, and memorized the turns and steps. Let me recite them now; Anilia can write them down. Then you can mark them on the map, and see if we get Lennier’s approximate location. I also have some details about the cell in which he is being held. With a small amount of research, I may be able to pinpoint its location.” When he was done, he explained to the others what they planned to do.

Ker broke in, “Did you get a chance to speak with Larra?”

“Not today. I’ll get in touch with her tomorrow morning. We’ll have the location by then, which will be helpful to her. She can do her explorations and get back to us by the start of the Feast of Ea. We have to be ready to move by then. Once the party is going, it will be simple to travel within the Palace unnoticed. It’s one of the most important Feast Days of the Centauri calendar.” He explained this to the others, while Anilia and Ker worked together on the map. The plan was simple. During the distraction of the multiple parties, feasts, gatherings, and games of the Feast Day, Ker and a small group of telepaths would infiltrate the Palace through the kitchens with Larra’s help. There would be extra help; cooks, waiters, servers, cleaners, and entertainers, coming in all day, so hopefully they would be unnoticed among them. Larra would show them how to get to the cell area. They would overcome the guards by various telepathic means. Susan grimaced at this, and started to speak, but instead waved Vir on. After they had located and freed Lennier, they would return the same way. He would be heavy cloaked and costumed, and they would mingle with the crowds on their way out of the Palace grounds. Once they had Lennier out, they would, of course, need to get him out of the city as quickly as possible. Vir explained vaguely that he had various ways of doing this, but added that it would be even better if they could get him off planet. That was where he had hoped Ivanova and the Rangers would be able to help.

Susan was impressed; it wasn’t a bad plan at all. There were a terrifying number of places that things could go wrong, but it wasn’t impossible that it could work. She looked over at Turlann, and he nodded slowly at her. The older Minbari Ranger was the most familiar of them with Centauri Prime itself, and if he thought it could work, then that was enough for Susan. One thing still bothered her, though. She asked bluntly, “What’s in it for the telepaths? I know you’re Lennier’s friend, Vir, and so, apparently is your sister, but why are Ker and his friends involved in this rescue?”

Vir looked over at Ker, who nodded slightly, and then he said, “You know I have been working with Ker’s group of telepaths, trying to right their grievances from within the system. Now that things have gone ill for them, I have been spiriting his people out of the city, and into the countryside. Hopefully when the hysteria dies down, I’ll be able to smuggle them off-planet. Some want to emigrate to Lyta’s telepath homeworld; others have ties in other places. It is a favor I have asked of them, and which they have agreed to freely.”

Susan nodded. “I think we can help with getting Lennier off-planet. The spaceport is between here and the Palace, correct?”

“It abuts the Palace grounds. There is a direct connection for the convenience of the Emperor and the Court. It is also accessible from our side,” answered Ker.

“That is right, Anla’Shok Na. There are other ways to get there as well, hidden ways the Rangers have used…in the past, of course.” Turlann added the last caveat quickly, at Vir’s suspicious glance.

“All right. We’ll have to make it look as if we’ve left, I suppose, since Londo decreed it. When you get Lennier here, can we call down a flyer and escape? Or perhaps we could commandeer one at the port?” She looked to Turlann and Vir for suggestions.

Her comlink chimed again. “Yes,” she spoke sharply into it.

The voice sounded distressed, “Anla’Shok Na, it is Entil’zha Sheridan himself who has arrived. He requests your presence, immediately, aboard his ship, for debriefing. He was most insistent.”

Susan sighed, “Well, that’s torn it. I have to go, and now. Vir, it’s a good plan. Go ahead with it unless you hear from me. I’ll try to get John to at least keep out of it.”

Vir looked puzzled, but nodded. “All right. I’ll use your private channel, the coded one. Susan, there is one more thing,” he added sadly.

“What?” said Susan, as she stood, signaling to the others to get ready to go.

“I promised Lennier that I would do my best to get Anilia off planet, to Minbar specifically. It seems this might be a good time. An escort of White Stars would surely ensure her safe passage.” Vir reached over and took his sister’s hand. “I can send your things along later. You’ll be all right with these people. I trust them completely.”

Ker looked dumbstruck. “What are you talking about? Anilia can’t leave! She’s working with me…with us! She’s a vital part of our movement, and…”

Vir said firmly, “Her position is compromised. She was arrested, and thrown in jail, Ker. Her reputation is ruined; it would be expected that I would send her to our country home into exile for the rest of her life for this. Besides, I’m still not sure why Londo released her. He could change his mind at any moment. It’s not safe for her here anymore.”

Ker started to protest, when Anilia rose, and asked the telepath to leave the room with her.

Susan watched them go, then turned to Vir, “That must be what Lennier was getting at when I spoke with him. He said he had asked her to visit. Why’s it so important?”

“I don’t know!” said Vir. “I never got a chance to ask either of them. Maybe when she comes back …”

The comlink sounded again, “Anla’Shok Na? The guard at the port are asking when we expect to be leaving. I believe we may have outstayed our welcome.”

“We’ll be right there, Wyans. Vir, we’ve got to go. I’ll talk to Anilia and let you know what’s going on. Use your time to say good-bye, okay? Don’t worry about the rest. There’ll be time for that later.” Susan spoke decisively, as one who’d missed out on good-byes before.

Maeve asked, “Should we take Anilia directly with us? Won’t they think it odd if we are taking a Centauri woman back with us…maybe worry she’s a hostage of some sort? Or if they’ve changed their mind about letting her go, they could stop her easily before we get her on board.”

Turlann said, “There are ways to sneak her into the port, but if they’re watching the flyer, I don’t think it will escape them that we are four instead of three.”

Maeve interjected brightly, “I know! I’ll stay here…she can go in my place. With my Ranger cloak pulled up over her head, she’ll pass for human!”

Susan said, “No!” immediately, but Turlann nodded.

“It is a good idea. Maeve will be safe enough here. We can retrieve her after Sera Cotto is safely with the fleet. I can come down myself.”

Susan looked from one to the other in exasperation, “I’ll never get used to you people. You don’t even pretend to defer to my authority, do you?”

Maeve looked stricken for a moment, but Turlann laughed dryly, and replied, “You would not have us any other way, Anla’Shok Na.”

Susan tried to look stern, then grinned, for the first time in hours, “Okay then. Let’s go see if Entil’zha will leave me with my skin, much less my authority, intact!” She stuck her head out into the corridor, where Vir and Anilia were speaking quietly, “Is she ready, Vir?”

“I am, Sera Ivanova,” answered Anilia spiritedly. She was tired of Susan talking over and around her.

“Here, put this on then.” Susan answered brusquely, still uncertain how to take the telepath. “Vir, Maeve is staying here. You okay with hiding her until we can get back? Anilia will wear her cloak and go with us.”

“All right,” Vir said worriedly, as his list of guests to be hidden increased. “When will that be? The Feast starts tomorrow night…will you able to get everything straightened out?”

“I will do my best,” said Susan, “ and I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”

Vir blushed, but assured her she had repaid any debt in full by taking care of his sister.

Behind his back, Anilia looked exasperated, and muttered that she didn’t need anyone to take care of her. Susan and Vir exchanged sympathetic glances. Ker was standing at the back of the hallway, his arms crossed in front of him, his expression somewhere between sullen and disconsolate.

Susan gave him a slight bow of her head, and said, “Good to meet you, Ker. Good luck. No hard feelings, I hope.”

Ker shrugged and walked back into the kitchen. Vir sighed, “It’ll be nice when all my house guests are safely gone. As much as I enjoy Lennier’s visits, I’ll be glad when this one is over.”

 

The trip back to the port, their walk to the docking bay, and their entrance into the ship was watched carefully but not stopped at any point. Susan had the distinct impression they were glad enough to see them go. She looked back at the Palace as the flyer ascended into the black night, and wondered again, what was happening to Lennier.

Everything had gone wrong; she hadn’t freed him, she hadn’t even been able to talk to him alone and unwatched. As for a rescue plan, Vir had things well in hand, as it turned out. Now she was going back, without him, back to face the consequences of her rash action. She’d done what she thought was right at the time, but now she was haunted by doubts and regrets. Would her actions taint the Rangers who had followed her? Had she split the Rangers by her actions, forcing them to choose between Delenn and Sheridan, and herself? Had she acted on emotion only, or had her gut instinct to not leave anyone behind been a good one? The Rangers were not in any way a traditional military; and she was still groping her way to an understanding of what they were all about. She thought back to what Delenn had said as she’d slammed out of their apartment. _When is death meaningful, under what circumstances? If you remember this, you will not be in error in your decision._ What on earth had she meant by that? She didn’t intend for anyone to die, not herself, certainly not Lennier. She struggled to remember the teachings about meaningful death, but the sayings escaped her.

“Turlann? What do the Anla’Shok mean by a meaningful death? What makes death meaningful?”

Turlann looked back at her from where he was seated next to Anilia. He had been telling the Centauri woman about Minbar, trying to reassure her that she would find her place there. “One way death is meaningful if it comes when you are following the calling of your heart, Anla’Shok Na.”

“And how do you know if your heart’s call is the right one…what if your heart’s desires conflict with your duty?” Susan asked, trying to understand.

“You will know. And, if you are in error, the Universe will soon illuminate your mistake. That is why we study, and meditate, and train; so that we can hear our heart’s call, the voice of the Universe inside of us. Your people, I believe, call it ‘the still, small voice’.”

Susan smiled, “Where did you hear that phrase? That passage was a favorite of my father’s.”

Turlann bowed his head in respect, “I have been a Ranger a long while. I heard this phrase from Sinclair, when he was Ranger One. Sinclair understood the Anla’Shok at once; almost instinctively, as I believe you do.” He turned back in his seat, and left Susan to ponder his words as the flyer split the night, heading back to its native berth among the stars.

The flyer docked with Sheridan’s ship; Susan preferred to face the music right away. Also, Anilia had insisted that she wanted to meet Sheridan as well. Susan was reluctant, but Lennier had seemed to think she was important in some way, so she agreed. Turlann requested that he be allowed to accompany them, which Susan thought was a good idea. Anilia’s English was adequate, a result of her original training to provide telepathic assistance to the Centauri trade delegation, but Turlann’s command of the Centauri language helped her understand more subtle nuances. Besides, Turlann’s supportive presence comforted Susan more than a little.

They weren’t met by anyone in the docking bay, which was either a good sign or a bad sign; Susan couldn’t quite decide. John had requested she join him in the small conference room just off the bridge. She hadn’t felt this nervous in years, not in battle, not in her first solo command, not during the Earth rebellion. Still, as she walked and reflected; she found herself growing calmer. The die was cast, and somehow, as they walked, her certainty solidified. Her decision might look emotional, or selfish, on the surface, but it was also right in some way. She was meant to be here, for some reason.

John was waiting for her alone in the minimally furnished conference room. There were four chairs surrounding a round glass table. The chairs were silvery metal, rounded and delicate, and were more comfortable than they looked. He stood as they entered, greeted Susan and Turlann amicably, and listened in interest to Anilia’s introduction. The Centauri woman was charmed by his warm welcome, and began to think more favorably of her exile. He gestured them to take a seat, then turned to Susan and asked for an update on the current situation.

Susan didn’t know what to think. Since she’d heard of John’s arrival, she’d been expecting the mother of all dressing downs from him, and here he was, calmly discussing strategy and laying out plans with her. Finally, she had to ask, “What’s going on, John? Did you change your mind about this mission? Has something else happened? Did Delenn perform some sort of Minbari brainwashing to make you forget I took three ships and dozens of Rangers halfway across the galaxy, against your orders, to poke a militant sociopathic Emperor into action?!”

John leaned back in his chair, and smiled, then chuckled, then began to laugh. Susan just stared at him uncomprehendingly, while Anilia looked from one to the other, confused at the interplay between the two humans. She was reeling from the realization that Ivanova had apparently challenged the entire Alliance and Sheridan himself to come to Lennier’s rescue. Apparently the human cared more for Lennier than Anilia had realized. Turlann gave the polite Minbari smile that was their equivalent of an elaborate eye-roll. Susan looked at him sharply, wondering if he had expected this reaction from the leaders of the Alliance. The Minbari could be insufferably smug when they were right about something.

“Can I use that, Susan? The Minbari brainwashing thing? I love it!” John couldn’t stop laughing, and Susan finally couldn’t help joining him.

“Okay, what changed your mind then? Why are you here, and what do you intend to do?”

John stopped laughing, and grew serious. “I’m here to help get Lennier free, and what changed my mind was Delenn, of course. She’s got a unique relationship with the Universe, you know. You told me once everyone did, remember? I didn’t trust your initial reactions, which were the same as mine, to get our guy out of trouble. This is happening now, for a reason…I just don’t know what it is. Remember, Lennier has thought all along that the source of our recent troubles lay somewhere on Centauri Prime. We’ll have to keep our eyes open, look for what’s behind all this.”

Anilia raised a hand slowly, and all three of them turned to her. “I believe I know something of what is ‘behind all this’,” she said timidly. “It is why Lennier asked me to go to Minbar and speak with Delenn. It is something I saw, when I was trying to observe one of Emperor Mollari’s secret meetings. There was someone else there, not Centauri.” She shivered visibly at the memory.

“Go on,” John said intently.

“Lennier wanted me to show Delenn telepathically, but I can at least tell you what he said they were. He said they were called Drakh.”

John blanched, and Susan’s face froze. Even Turlann seemed taken aback.

“He told me a little about them, but I’m afraid I don’t know much more than what I saw. They were talking to Londo; he seemed cowed by them. I’ve never seen him like that before, almost as if they were controlling him somehow. Lennier thought it vital that Delenn, and the Alliance, know this.” Anilia looked from one to the other of her new allies, wondering what to make of the looks that passed between them, and growing more frightened than she had been before.

“This changes things.” John said slowly, obviously still trying to work out the ramifications of this revelation. “It might explain a lot of what’s been happening, but it raises as many questions as it answers. What is Londo’s relationship with the Drakh? When did they get to Centauri Prime? How much power do they have, and how do they wield it? We’re going to have to tread carefully…” he paused, then said, “I’ll have to go down there myself. I need to see Londo, to talk to him in person.”

Susan said emphatically, “I don’t think that’s wise. From Delenn’s description of her encounter with these guys, they hate her, and probably hate you as well, for your role in banishing the Shadows. I don’t think we can count on time healing all wounds here.” She added, “There’s Lennier to consider as well. Was he taken prisoner to get you here? Maybe it’s a trap.”

“Of course it’s a trap! The question is do we spring it ourselves, or let them do it? If we turn around and leave, or go back to working through diplomatic channels, they’re not going to give up and let him go. They won’t kill him as long as he’s useful to them.” He added hurriedly as Susan’s face darkened, “Susan, we may have to leave him there a while longer, just while I figure out what is going on. I’ll be safe enough, and someone has to go. I’ll contact Vir, pick up Callahan, but you can’t go back. You’re too emotionally involved…”

“I’m emotionally involved? You’re working your martyr act again, and expecting it to work, and I’m too involved? You’re not indestructible, but you may be close to indispensable at this point. Besides, I am not going back to Minbar to tell Delenn that I left both of you behind; that is not an option!”

“No one else can do this! I promise I’ll be careful; they don’t want to start a war with the Alliance, not now. There’s something else going on, I’m certain of it!”

The two humans glared at each other over the table. Susan said deliberately, “I can’t countenance this action on your part, Entil’zha. I do not approve.”

John said firmly, “It’s not up to you to approve or disapprove. It's my decision, and I am going. The Rangers will back me.”

“Be careful, Entil’zha. With all respect, it may be that not all of them will.” Turlann’s calm voice echoed in the small room, hanging in the air, as the seconds ticked by in stalemate.

John said carefully, “You need to get back to Minbar, Anla’Shok Na. Delenn needs to speak with Anilia, and hear her evidence. The Rangers need to be prepared for this potential new threat. I am ordering you to go; I speak for the President, who is your commanding officer.”

Susan said icily, “I doubt that the President would approve of your going down to the planet, if she had all the facts.” She stood and said, “I will take Anilia back to my ship now, and prepare it to leave for Minbar at once. Turlann, come with us.” She didn’t give John a second look as she strode out the door.

 

Susan didn’t speak a word on the way back to her ship. Once aboard, she ordered an escort for Anilia to the small guest rooms on the ship, and told her second to prepare to leave orbit and set a course for home. Then she returned to her quarters, alone. She sat on the edge of her bed for a few moments, in silence, as if listening carefully to something faint and hard to hear, a whisper that had grown louder and louder in the last few hours. Taking off the Ranger pin granted her although she had yet to finish her training; she turned it over and over in her fingers. _Human and Minbari, joined as one_ , she thought. She had often tried to understand Marcus' decision to desert the battle for Earth in order to save her life. He’d made the wrong decision, she’d always thought, the cowardly one. It had been no more than suicide and folly, and left her unspeakably, unforgiveably, in his debt. Yet Delenn had understood his reasons, and forgiven him. The Rangers, even those who thought Marcus had joined them for the wrong reason, believed he’d followed the calling of his heart, and that his death had meaning, even if the meaning was unclear at the time.

She couldn’t risk splitting the Rangers over this; they had become important to her in ways she couldn’t explain, even to John. They needed to be united to face what was coming. She also knew she couldn’t go back to Minbar; the need to return to the planet, to finish the mission she’d started, was pulling at her, tearing her heart out. She put the pin down on the table beside her bed, and stroked it gently with one finger. Then she stood, put on her cloak, and left for the docking bay. She asked the flight crew to prepare a medium-sized flyer. Smaller than a shuttle, these were large enough to carry up to four people, but capable of being piloted safely by one person. Then she asked them to clear the flight deck, and leave her alone. She climbed into the pilot’s seat, and looked out to see Turlann standing outside. He must have followed her, unless he'd been waiting for her here.

“What part of ‘clear out’ didn’t you understand?” she snapped impatiently.

“Open the door, Anla’Shok Na. I would like to speak with you.”

She opened the flyer door, and watched in fury as he climbed inside. “Turlann, I’ve resigned. I’m not Anla’Shok Na anymore, just a private citizen stealing a flyer. Go back home with the others.”

Turlann looked at her, and said, “There are many reasons you should take me with you. I know the planet, the city, and the language. You made me responsible for Callahan on this mission, and I take that charge seriously. You will need back-up you can trust as you deal with the Centauri telepaths. Most of all, you are right to go, and I am right to go with you.”

“Turlann, I order you to get off this ship! I have to get going before John figures out what I’m doing!”

“If I accepted that you were no longer Anla’Shok Na, I would not have to follow your orders. And if, as I believe, you remain Anla’Shok Na, you will understand that I must follow my heart in this. You are also correct; Entil’zha will be checking on why our ship has not yet left for Minbar. Any minute now. Perhaps we should continue this discussion planetside?”

Susan knew when she was beaten; she turned to the control panel, opened a channel, and requested the docking staff open the bay doors. As they flew off into the darkness of space, she found herself comforted by the Minbari’s silent presence. It didn’t hurt to have someone at her back. With Turlann and Callahan, Vir and Ker, she would free Lennier, protect John, and get them all back in one piece. She was on speaking terms with her heart again, and she was going to learn to listen, even if it killed her.

 

 

 


	4. Promises to Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far—
> 
> In Part I: Collateral Damage, we find out Lyta Alexander has set up a homeworld for telepaths with the assistance of G'Kar. She solicits the support of the Alliance, and gets some, but not all, of what she wants.
> 
> In Part II: All Politics is Local, Lennier has stopped off on Centauri Prime prior to returning to Minbar. The Centauri telepaths rise in revolt. Londo has Lennier detained. Acting against John and Delenn's wishes, Susan leaves for Centauri Prime with a small group of Rangers to free Lennier.
> 
> In Part III: Though Hell Should Bar the Way, Lennier and Anilia remain imprisoned on Centauri Prime. Susan arrives to speak with Londo, but finds he has outmaneuvered her, and also released Anilia into Vir’s custody. John Sheridan arrives, and calls Susan up to his ship for a little ‘heart-to-heart.’ Anilia reveals a secret; Susan makes a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the Lennier/Ivanova AU, set in 2273
> 
> Rated PG-13, for violence and a mild sex scene

 

Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words.

 

 _**Stopping By the Woods on a Snowy Evening—Robert Frost** _

… _The woods are lovely, dark and deep,  
But I have promises to keep,  
And miles to go before I sleep,  
And miles to go before I sleep._

 

Part IV: Promises to Keep

 

Lyta Alexander was fairly satisfied with the way things were going. It was true that more telepaths had been hurt that she had expected in the explosion at the Mars PsiCorp headquarters, but she had anticipated some collateral damage. Her allies from the old Mars telepath underground had gone a little farther than she had expected. The fear and shock had played into her plans, and driven even more telepaths into applying to emigrate to the new homeworld. Garibaldi had handled the negotiations with the Earth and Mars authorities, calming their jitters, and explaining that reluctant, fearful telepaths would not be good for business or other uses. PsiCorps representatives had not been welcome at the bargaining table, which had infuriated the group, but both Lyta and Garibaldi had been adamant. It was obvious that the respective governments were not unhappy with that provision. No one trusted PsiCorp, or really telepaths in general, Lyta mused. She hated that, but here it played to her advantage. Garibaldi was going to do as she said, in anticipation of his long awaited release from the psychic block that prevented him from getting his revenge on Alfred Bester. It was a twisted maze of reciprocal promises and guarantees, each one predicated on the other. This web had been woven many years before, and sometimes she felt if even one thread came undone, the whole structure would fall apart. She was enmeshed in promises to Garibaldi, to G’Kar, to the other telepaths she had encouraged on so many worlds, and most of all, the unspoken promise she had made to Byron.

Walking across the room to the window, she looked out onto the streets of Burroughs, the second largest dome on Mars. Edgars Industries had a guest facility where she was being housed while the negotiations were going on. The building was handsome by Mars standards, where accommodations were still mostly those of a marginal colony world. The low-rise apartment blocks that filled the city were square and unadorned slabs of polycrete. Money went into maintaining a breathable atmosphere, and keeping the vital transportation system working despite the constant depredations of dust and cold. Since the buildings themselves were plain and functional, Martians indulged themselves with lavish furnishings and plush interiors. They were fond of soft fabrics and bright colors. Lyta’s rooms were, by contrast, minimally furnished. The chairs and sofa were a grey-blue suede, with brightly colored cushions and blankets draped over all of them. After years aboard stations and ships, it felt almost decadent. She decided to stretch out on the couch for a moment, trying to relax after a long day of negotiations. The Mars representative was coming around to her point of view; the ongoing tension in the domes was driving her to compromise. EarthGov, however, was proving more difficult. They had backed down from their initial comments on how the telepaths ‘owed’ them for their support and educational programs. That had led to riots and protests in most major cities with a PsiCorp facility. The overtones of indentured servitude had even repulsed some normals.

She sighed, and stretched. It had only been a few days since her arrival. The news from the other systems was mixed. Some telepaths had gotten a fair hearing of their grievances, but most were fighting for recognition, for their rights, even for their very lives. She’d heard from several of the leaders she’d coordinated with, and the council on homeworld reported that ships had begun arriving from dozens of planets. They were concerned about their ability to absorb so many colonists, and refugees, at this early stage of development. Earlier that day, she’d arranged with Michael to cash in some of her investments and forward the cash to Narn, where G’Kar would make sure the colony’s credit line was replenished. They still got most of their supplies from Narn, but she fervently hoped they could become self-sufficient in another few years. A tithing system had been set up for telepaths who wished to work off-world, and yet retain a stake in homeworld. It had taken root in alien systems of course; Earth and the other human worlds still had PsiCorps, who maintained their stranglehold on human telepaths with their right-to-work rules and commission rake-offs. PsiCorps was pernicious and thoroughly evil, in Lyta’s eyes. They were supported by the government, by their own perverted inventions and weapons, as well as the percentage of earnings they took from every registered telepath. They justified that theft by saying it was a donation to the extended family of telepaths that PsiCorps supported, raised, and trained. The money they took in went towards schools, laboratories, administration, advertising; even their own fleet of ships and a couple of secret bases of which no one in the government was seemingly aware. Their power and prestige had taken a hit after the Earth Civil War and the overthrow of President Clark. Once the telepathic establishment’s involvement with the repression and violence of those years had come out, there was an initial purge of the upper management of the Corps. Most of the middle levels of the bureaucracy and some of the most dangerous people remained, however, keeping their heads low until the furor died down. After all, telepaths were still being born, and had to be dealt with; and who could the normals turn to if not the Corps?

Her front door chimed, and she got up slowly. It was probably dinner being delivered; she’d been too tired to go out, and after her face had been plastered all over ISN, she didn’t like to wander around alone. The government officials were going to some function to which she wasn’t invited, and which she wouldn’t have wanted to attend anyway. She rumbled among the litter on the table just inside the door for her credit chit to pay for the delivery, and absently said ‘Open’ as she searched for the slim piece of plastic. Turning, she almost knocked the pizza box out of the man’s hands. She apologized, and held out the chit with one hand, while steadying the white cardboard container with the other. “Let me take this, and set it down somewhere,” she said, taking hold of the box with both hands. Looking up, she met the familiar lazy smile and crinkled eyes of an old friend. “Zack?” she said, almost dropping her dinner once again.

“That’s me. Half cheese and half pepperoni, right?” There was the faintest hint of anxiety buried in his eyes, as if he was slightly uncertain of his reception. That uncertainty was quickly allayed as Lyta took the box, set it down, and gave him a short, sharp hug.

“Come on inside! Do you have time? There’s plenty of food; I always order too much. Not much chance of pizza delivery the places I’ve been lately.” She spoke quickly, as if rushed, as she cleared off the low table in front of the couch, and put the box down. Going to the small kitchen area off the living room, she gathered plates, napkins, and snagged a bottle of wine and two glasses as an afterthought. Zack took the bottle and glasses from her, and set them down on the table by the pizza.

“You got an opener?”

Lyta went back into the kitchen and rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a small cylinder. She tossed it towards Zack, and he caught it one-handed. “Is wine okay?” she asked. “Would you like something else?”

“It’s fine. I’m on duty, but one won't hurt.” He adeptly opened the bottle and poured them both a drink.

“What kind of duty?” Lyta asked, as she sat down and opened the box, and pulled two slices onto plates. "Are you living on Mars now? What have you been doing with yourself?" Privately, she wondered why she was so pleased to see him. Perhaps it was simply loneliness. She'd been walking a solitary path for a very long time.

Zack set down the slice of pizza he'd just bitten into, and mumbled, "Just a minute…" After swallowing, he picked up the glass of wine and twirled it around and around in his fingers. "Guess the Chief didn't tell you then. I've been doing some security work for Edgars Industries."

It took Lyta only a split second to connect the dots. "Garibaldi sent you? Let me guess…to keep an eye on me?" Her voice grew hard as she contemplated Garibaldi's possible motives.

"To keep an eye out for you, I'd say. He's worried about the reaction to your announcement. Your ideas have stirred up lot of people. It's protection, not surveillance," he protested.

She softened at the open hurt in his voice. After all, even if Garibaldi had mixed motives, Zack had never been able to hide his feelings, not from her. She briefly considered scanning him to make sure, but was oddly reluctant. Trust was not a luxury she'd allowed herself in years; perhaps it was time to make an exception. "All right, I see your point." She gestured around the small suite, "Were you expecting to sleep on the couch? It's not very big."

Zack turned beet red, and stumbled over the words. "I'm next door. There's a connecting door, but you can leave it locked if you…I mean…if you want, or if you don't want…ah, hell." He ran his hand through his thinning hair, and said firmly. "I'll be right there. Next door. This building's secure anyway. It's more for when you go out. You've got an interview tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, at 9 am. Though I'm not sure what good it'll do. People seem to have made up their minds, one way or the other."

“Yeah, well. People always say they’ve made up their mind, but then they change them. You can change it for ‘em. I heard your speech; made a lot of sense to me.” He took a swig, and made a face. “I never did get used to this stuff. You got any beer?”

She shook her head, “No, there’s water and juice. Help yourself.” She watched as he stood and wandered over to the kitchen area. “You really think the homeworld’s a good idea?” Suddenly it was very important to her to know his opinion.

“Sure. You people got a raw deal, first from the Vorlons and afterwards from all the rest of us. And after all you did to help in the War, hell; you deserve a place of your own. I wouldn’t be surprised if you never wanted to see a normal human type again.” He was carefully looking away from her, fearing to see her nod in agreement.

Lyta found herself obscurely pleased by his obvious sympathy. “Well, that’s not true. Not all normals are prejudiced. You never were.” She smiled as he turned to face her with a broad grin.

“Glad you think so. Now, tell me what you’ve been doing since you left the station with G’Kar.”

The conversation went on for a long while. Zack told Lyta about his leaving EarthForce, about his short-lived marriage, and finally his going to work for Edgars Industries' Earth Division. Lyta told him some of her adventures out on the Rim, but mostly talked of her plans, and how important they were to her, and how much rested on getting EarthGov and the Mars Council on board.

“PsiCorps will never let them go voluntarily. It has to come from both above and below; from the governmental representatives, and from the person in the street. I’m afraid that I’m relying on fear and resentment more than a sense of fairness. I’ve already had to compromise on the underage telepaths. They are to stay at PsiCorps-run schools, until they come of age and can make their own choice to go or stay. At least I’ve managed to arrange for oversight of the schools, and to have open access for any parents who want it. PsiCorps relies on taking children when they’re young, and replacing their need for family structure with devotion to the Corps.”

“Is that what happened to you?” asked Zack sympathetically.

She looked away briefly, “I don’t like to talk about it.” Meeting his eyes, she added, “But that’s about right. I never forgot my mother though. I always wanted to get back to her. When I finally did, it was too late.”

Zack patted her hand gently. “This is going to work out. I’m sure of it. For now, though, I’d better let you get some sleep. You’ll need to be awake to deal with those reporters’ questions in the morning.” He removed his hand, and stood up. “I’ll be next door, like I said. You’ve got a comlink; the Chief set it up so if you even tap it I’ll get an alert and come running. Knock on the door if you need anything short of guns blazing.”

She walked him to the door of the suite. “Good night then.” For a moment, she felt insanely tempted to step into his arms, just to feel the touch of another human being, close and warm. Instead, she said softly, “I’m glad Garibaldi sent for you, Zack. This evening…it’s been nice.”

“Yeah, well…I’d better go,” Zack cleared his throat, then hit the button to open the door, and stepped into the corridor. “I’ll be by in the morning. Don’t leave without me.”

After the door had closed, she answered, “I won’t.”

 

Susan and Turlann managed to land the flyer at a small spaceport just outside the capital city. Turlann bribed the Centauri on duty to delay recording the arrival of their ship in the port logs for a few days. He hoped they would be gone by then. Renting a small ground flyer at the port with some Centauri ducats Susan had brought along, they sped into town under cover of darkness. It was late when they arrived at Vir's townhouse, and Susan risked linking in with Maeve to avoid waking the house.

"Anla'Shok Na! I didn't think I would see you back here tonight! How did it go with Entil'zha? Are we going ahead with Ser Cotto's plan to free Lennier?" Maeve whispered excitedly as she let them in the front door, and shut it hurriedly behind them.

"Ivanova?" Vir's voice came from upstairs, and he came quickly down the stairs. "What is going on? Do you have any news?"

Susan removed the hood from her head, and shook her head, "No good news, Vir. Come on, let's sit down and go over our options. They've narrowed considerably since we last talked."

Vir listened intently, stopping to ask questions occasionally. The only time he interrupted was at Susan's description of Anilia's encounter with the Drakh. "Curse Londo!" he said with unusual venom in his voice. "I thought we had gotten rid of the Shadow influence that he brought here!"

Susan stared briefly, then answered, "Your sister indicated that Londo didn't seem to be in control of the situation. Perhaps he isn't hosting these Drakh by choice."

Vir nodded slowly, "That is possible. I will have to find out more, but right now we have more immediate problems. What are we going to do about Sheridan's plan to come to the court to confront Londo? It seems terribly unwise to me."

"You're telling me. I quit my job over that, among other things." Susan thought for a moment, then went on, "Can we move up our plans? If we get Lennier out, and off planet, perhaps we can convince John to leave it to you to investigate the Drakh connection." She added hastily, "If you want to, I mean, if it's in your interests. I'm not asking you to work for the Alliance. Hell, I don't even work for them anymore."

Maeve broke in, "Is that for real? You're quitting? I thought you told me you’d made a promise to yourself….” She broke off, obviously upset.

Turlann interjected, “We have a mission to fulfill, Ranger Callahan. That is all we need worry about at this point. The rest will take care of itself.”

Susan glared at the Minbari Ranger momentarily, then returned her attention to Vir. “How about it? Can we move sooner than you’d planned? Get him out of there, and off planet?”

Vir looked thoughtful. “The Feast begins at sundown but the preparations are already underway. When Ker returns, we can see if he can get his people together. I have not spoken with Larra yet, but she is probably still at the Palace. I can see her now, and show her the map. We’ll arrange a meeting place early tomorrow morning.”

Turlann broke in, “If I may add something, Ser. I know a secret way out of the Palace grounds from my days stationed here. Perhaps I can meet with Ker and take Lennier out that way. It might be safer if the rescue party split up after Lennier is freed. If there is pursuit, it will splinter going after several groups.”

“Should we try to go straight to the spaceport where we left the flyer?” asked Susan.

“Let me bring Sech Lennier back here first. He may not be in any condition to immediately leave. Besides, I will have to pick up you and Callahan.”

“What do you mean, pick us up?” Susan’s voice was on low burn. “I’m going with you, or Ker, or someone. I’m not waiting around here!”

Vir and Turlann exchanged glances. Vir started, “Ivanova, you are too recognizable. Your presence would only endanger Lennier. Turlann is right; you should stay here.”

“You two sound exactly like John! What the hell did I come back for! I am sick and tired of being left behind…” her voice broke off, and she stormed out of the sitting room in which they were gathered.

“Leave her,” Turlann said, as Vir rose to follow. “She will see the truth in what we say. She is not a fool.”

Maeve asked, “Wouldn’t Vir’s house be the first place they’d look for Lennier? Vir’s his friend, and he was staying here.”

Vir looked anxious at this, but Turlann said smoothly, “We won’t be here long. If Sech Lennier is fit to travel, we will head out to the port as soon as possible.”

“I think perhaps I have a better idea. What port did you land your flyer at?” Vir smiled when Turlann told him. “I have a safehouse near there. If I give directions, can you find it?”

Turlann nodded, and asked curiously, “What is your need for these safe houses, Ser Cotto?”

Vir looked serious. “I do not believe it is necessary for you to know that. I will wait for you there. You cannot stay long; it would endanger others.”

“We will not. The sooner we are off planet the better,” answered Turlann.

Maeve asked, “How do we stop Entil’zha from coming down to speak directly with the Emperor?”

Vir smiled, “First of all, no one speaks with the Emperor before midday. Second, Londo will be busy with the last minute preparations for the Feast of Ea. There are scheduled events all day long. If we get word to Sheridan when Lennier is free, perhaps we can forestall his visit.”

Susan had re-entered the room, and was standing against the wall, arms crossed. “I’ll take care of that part. Leave John to me.” She gestured towards the door. “It’s getting late, Vir. Shouldn’t you get going if you want to catch Larra at work? I know you people eat late, but it’s past midnight.”

“You’re right!” Vir bustled around the room, gathering up his coat, and stuffing the rolled up map into an inside pocket. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. If Ker gets back, let him know we’re moving early. He’ll have to get his people together. Tell him we’ll meet here shortly after daybreak.” He went to Ivanova and patted her shoulder gently, “We’ll have him out of there tomorrow!” Then he left. They heard him hailing a groundtaxi from the steps. Turlann excused himself, saying he needed to check that the pathways he remembered were still there and accessible. Susan and Maeve were left alone, with only the ticking clock for company.

They weren’t alone for long. The night was a flurry of activity. Ker returned soon after Vir had left, listening calmly to their plans, and responding with intelligent questions and comments. He went back out, saying he would return by daybreak with the others. Susan found herself more impressed by the young Centauri this time; his whole demeanour had changed. He seemed more determined and more focused. Then Turlann returned, reporting that he’d located the safe house, and also traced the path from the Palace grounds to the safe house, and from the safe house to the port. He’d checked on the flyer, and all was well. The port was deserted this time of night, and the guard on duty had been friendly and talkative. There was another piece of luck in their favor. Due to the holiday, there was to be a skeleton staff at the port the next day. Turlann asked Susan for permission to retire to one of the upstairs bedrooms and meditate until it was time to depart. Susan snapped at him that he didn’t have to ask since she’d resigned, but he waited patiently until she grudgingly granted him leave to go. She turned her glare on Maeve, who hadn’t been able to completely smother a laugh, and ordered her upstairs to rest. It was now about two in the morning; only a few hours left till daybreak. _The hour of the wolf_ , Susan thought resignedly. How many of those had she sat through in her life? Watching and waiting while someone she cared for was in danger, and there was nothing she could do to help.

Vir came back quietly jubilant. Larra had not only agreed to help; she had shown him the passage to the cells, which was well hidden and seemingly abandoned. The cook had recognized the sigil he had seen on the cell door, and identified the level on which it was located right away. As with the small spaceport, the cells were to be guarded lightly the next day. Ker came back at daybreak with four other telepaths; two male and two female. After a light breakfast, they split to their respective positions. Ker and his group headed to the Palace to meet up with Larra. Vir took Maeve and Susan to the safe house, while Turlann accompanied them partway, then left to go to his hiding place on the grounds to await Ker and Lennier.

Again there was nothing to do but wait. After a short time spent watching Susan pace up and down the main living area, precisely quartering the room each time, Vir asked Maeve if she would like to see the garden. Once they were outside, Maeve began to relax. Her first mission had started out exciting, but the waiting was getting to her. Susan’s suppressed, yet obvious, anxiety didn’t help matters. Maeve peppered her host with questions about his time on the station, about the Shadow War, about everything to do with Sheridan, Delenn, and especially, Ivanova.

Vir had a hard time keeping up with Maeve’s intense curiosity. Still, it passed the time, and truth be told, he was nearly as anxious as Ivanova. So many things could go wrong, and it could easily end badly. He was thankful Anilia was safely on her way to Minbar. One thing that puzzled him was Londo’s reaction, or rather, his lack of reaction, to the presence of what amounted to an Alliance fleet in orbit around homeworld. He knew that Centauri warships were in place, but they were keeping their distance. The Emperor must have them under tight control, as memories of the last time the Alliance visited Centauri Prime in force were still vivid. He agreed with Ivanova and Sheridan; it felt like a trap, and the trap was probably meant for Sheridan himself. Londo was risking a great deal to get Sheridan there, and Vir could not fathom his intent. If he harmed Sheridan in any way, or Great Maker forbid, killed him; then Delenn and Ivanova, with the assistance of the Rangers and the Alliance, would rip their world apart. It had to be the Drakh pushing him to do this insane thing; presumably they did not care about the ultimate fate of the Centauri. Their mentors, the Shadows, certainly never had. Looking up at the sky, he saw the sun had risen completely over the horizon. It was a new day, one full of hope and peril. He realized he was not certain all of them would live to see its end.

 

Lyta Alexander woke with a smile on her face. She'd been having a pleasant dream for once; one not filled with fire and death. For a moment just before waking, she'd felt feather-soft wings brush across her mind. Then she looked at the clock, and jumped out of bed. If she didn't hurry, she was going to be late for the ISN interview. That was no way to win friends and influence people, as the old saying went. She showered quickly, then grabbed coffee and drank as she dressed. It was a quarter to nine when the door chimed. "Open," she called without thinking.

Zack entered and said reprovingly, "You should check who it is before you open the door."

"You told me the building was secure!" she replied laughing. “Besides, weren’t you sleeping outside my door?” she teased.

He looked stricken and shuffled his feet awkwardly, and said, “I didn’t exactly sleep there. But I wake up early these days. Thought I might as well hang outside, and wait for you.”

Lyta said in chagrin, "Thank you for taking such good care of me. We'd better go; we're going to be late. Garibaldi said there would be a car waiting downstairs."

"Ladies first," Zack said gallantly, sweeping a hand towards the door. They chatted amiably as they went down the lift to the front entrance. The usual crowd of reporters was there, but Zack elbowed them aside firmly and efficiently, and they were quickly on their way, seated in the backseat of a luxurious groundcar.

When they reached the studio, the car went to a back entrance, which had been secured by Edgars Industries employees, as well as the news station’s own guards. Lyta walked in, head high, ignoring the stares and sometimes hostile looks of some of the guards. Zack didn't ignore them; he glared right back, and made a mental note of those who worked for Edgars. He'd need to keep an eye on his own people too, it seemed.

The station had a stage, which was separated from a studio audience by an impermeable but transparent wall. Zack quickly checked out the security, noting all the entrances and exits, and asked that they all be locked and guarded, except the one that they had entered through. He placed two Edgars guards there, ones that seemed more neutral in demeanour. He wished he'd had time to learn more about the staff here on Mars, or could have brought his own people from Earth. The Chief was slipping up, letting staff with obvious prejudices guard Lyta. He supposed it might be hard to weed them out though. Telepaths weren't exactly popular either on Earth or on Mars. He'd never been able to get that. They were born the way they were, and in his estimation, went to great lengths to accommodate others' fears and dislike. He figured it was just one of those irrational things that people got in their heads.

Lyta was sitting in one of the chairs, with a noted ISN interviewer seating next to her. There was a small glass table between them, with a pitcher of water, and two glasses. Lyta poured herself a glass, and Zack quickly took it from her, took a sip, and handed it back. The woman from ISN stared at him, then looked at the pitcher. "Thanks," she said curtly. "That really wasn't necessary."

"Never hurts to be careful," replied Zack cheerfully. Lyta smiled up at him, and his heart warmed at her appreciation.

When the warm-up music for the program started, Zack stepped to the side of the stage, out of view of the majority of the audience. Digi-cams were whizzing around the crowd, while the technicians in the back tried to optimize settings and noise levels. The interviewer had a micro-camera attached to her headset microphone, so Lyta was 'on' whenever she looked at the woman. There was a floating digi-cam on stage as well, to cover her and the interviewer when they faced the audience. The idea was to promote the idea of telepath emigration with common people, and to answer their questions in a fairly neutral setting. Lyta was nervous; she'd not experienced much neutrality from normals, or for that matter, from other telepaths. Her whole life had been a process of keeping a low profile, and trying not to incite the negative feelings her kind often did in even in the best-intentioned of normals. She looked over at Zack, waiting patiently in the shadows. He smiled at her, and gave her a thumbs-up. Smiling, she turned back to Cathy Sorenson, and listened with attention to her introduction.

"Hello! This is Cathy Sorenson with an ISN Special Interview. Our guest today is Lyta Alexander, telepath and adventurer turned would-be world maker. She is here to explain her concept of a homeworld for telepaths. Ms. Alexander has worked as a commercial telepath in the past, and has been associated with PsiCorps, though she is currently unaffiliated with that institution. Later today, we'll have a follow-up interview with a PsiCorp representative, who takes an opposing view to Ms. Alexander on the need for a separate world just for telepaths…"

"Excuse me, Ms. Sorenson?" Lyta broke in, "I'm sorry, but that is an inaccurate description of what I'm trying to do."

"How so?"

"The homeworld will not be exclusively populated by telepaths. Anyone is welcome to apply to emigrate, but they must understand that the government, institutions, etc., will be set up as if telepathy is the norm. For instance, we foresee that normals with a telepathic child may wish to re-locate, to provide their child with training and friends who share their gift.”

“Gift, Ms. Alexander? I’ve heard some call it curse, or worse.”

“Like all differences, it can be either, or both. All we want is a safe haven, a place where people like us are the normal ones. There will be rules, laws, conventions governing use of telepathy, of course…but we hope, eventually, to show each other, and the rest of you, that we are just people. Sentient beings with an added dimension—like the species that can fly, and others that can breathe underwater. The most fascinating thing I’ve found is that telepathy can bridge the differences between species in some cases…”

Lyta leaned forward, earnest, and engaged in making her case. The audience was quiet, and even Ms. Sorenson seemed more interested than combative. Just then, Zack heard the distinctive sound of a PPG firing up. Wildly searching the crowd, and then the stage, he saw no one until the blast sounded. Lyta spun around, clutching her shoulder, then another blast took her in the side. Zack followed the line of fire backwards to its source, and threw himself into the shadows at the back of the stage. He connected with someone dressed all in black, and knocked him flat. He proceeded to slam his head against the floor…if it was a teep, he wanted him unconscious, and fast. From the front of the stage, he heard screams. Turning his head, while keeping his prey in a tight choke hold, he saw Lyta standing in a half crouch by her chair, her arm hanging uselessly by her side. Cathy Sorenson was backing away from Lyta, shaking her head, and mouthing the words, “No, no, don’t!”

Zack watched in horror as the interviewer’s body began to bubble as if hot water was being forced under the top layer of her skin. She screamed then, and held her hands out as if in supplication, just before she burst into flame. He shouted something, he never knew what, and Lyta turned towards him. Her eyes were glowing, white hot and pulsing with power. He got up and walked slowly towards her, saying her name, and telling her it would be all right. He heard noises behind him, and two of the station guards yelled at him to get down. Lyta turned her eyes on them, and Zack felt the heat rising around him, and smelled burning flesh. He kept moving, not daring to look away from Lyta.

“It’s me, Lyta. It’s Zack. You’re hurt, and I’m here to help you. Let me help you.” He continued to talk, softly and smoothly as he moved towards her. To his intense relief, her eyes faded slowly back to their normal blue. He reached her just before she collapsed. Picking her up carefully, trying to avoid the horrible-looking wound in her side, he headed for the unlocked exit. The Edgars guards stared at him open-mouthed as he barked out, “Open the door, and get out of the way!” Once outside, he yelled at the driver to open the back door of the car, and laid her gently on the seat. “Drive, damn you! Take us back to the guest house!” he said as he got into the passenger seat. He was linking in to Garibaldi before they’d left the curb.

 

Early spring mornings on Centauri Prime were lovely, cool and fragrant. After Vir and Maeve had come in from their walk, they had shooed Susan outside while they prepared breakfast with the staff. She left willingly; the cheerful voices and seemingly carefree laughter from the kitchen grated on her raw nerves. Walking the garden paths with the same precise stride she had been using in the living room inside, she tried to concentrate on the next steps in their plan. She’d already set the stage for the subversion of John’s tactics. Her thoughts kept returning to her basic purpose, which was getting Lennier out of there, and back home. Clenching her fists, and pounding them against her thighs as she paced, she tried to work out her intense frustration. She was always the one being left behind, the one to keep things going while others put themselves at risk. Stopping at a stone garden seat, she sat down and fought back tears. This was the hard part. The heroics were easy. Once you started down a set path, your choices were determined by events beyond your control. Waiting, with your whole life on hold, with all your choices taken out of your hands, was agonizing. Sometimes it seemed she’d spent her most of her time watching and waiting, while the people she loved made their choices; choices that inevitably led them away from her. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her usual common sense. Falling into despair and self pity wouldn’t help. Looking into the rising sun, she tried to believe in the happy ending that always seemed to elude her. She heard someone calling, as if from far away…it was Vir.

“Ivanova! Susan…they’re back! Turlann’s back, and Lennier’s with him!”

She closed her eyes, fighting back tears of relief, and stood up shakily, beginning to walk towards the house. After a few seconds, she started to run.

 

Lennier opened his eyes to bright sunlight, and a clean white room. A gentle breeze came in from somewhere, carrying the fresh scent of green, and morning air. He shifted in the bed, and felt a mattress beneath him dip down. The bedding was soft and warm, and it felt wonderful where it touched his bare skin. He was wearing clean clothes. The shirt was soft, and unfastened; he could feel bandages bulking underneath. Sensing another presence in the room, he sat up cautiously, and looked around. Susan was standing in front of a mirror hung on the wall by the door, apparently examining herself in it. He watched from the bed, almost stunned by the sight of her. Every dream and wish and desire he'd had in the last few terrible days was standing in front of him. She stood stiff and erect, staring into the mirror at her own face, as if looking for something. Her back was to him, her arms crossed in front of her, hugging her body, tension apparent in every line. He looked around the room, still dazed. He was no longer imprisoned in the darkness, free in body if not in spirit. Flexing his arms and legs, he felt that he was not in such terrible condition. The gash on his right hand was now neatly bandaged. Feeling under his shirt, he found another bandage high on his left arm. His ribs had been taped as well, and it hurt to breathe. The guards must have broken one or more in his last interrogation session. He vaguely recalled the jolting agony the last time they'd slammed him to the stone floor of his cell. The rescue itself had been a jumble of confusion and pain. Someone had been in his mind at one point, reassuring him that they had come to help. They had put an enveloping robe over his body with a hood to hide his headbone, and rushed him through dusty, twisting corridors, to the outside. When the cool morning air had touched him, he'd wanted desperately to stop and breathe it in, to look at the open sky, but his rescuers kept urging him on, encouraging him to move more quickly. Finally, they had left him with someone, a Minbari, he thought, but he'd lost awareness after that. Then he had woken to this vision. Perhaps he was dreaming, he suddenly thought, or perhaps they had implanted this image in his mind, taking his torment to a new bitter level.

"Susan?" he said carefully, bracing for the crash if she turned to dust or deadly apparition.

She turned to face him, and now he could see the tears silently coursing down her face.  
"Susan," he repeated, this time with certainty in his voice, edging towards joy. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and started towards her. Stumbling, he realized he'd overestimated his strength, but she was suddenly there at his side to catch him, and he realized abruptly that he had never doubted that she would be. Standing straight, willing his still-trembling legs to hold him up, he took her in his arms, wondering anew at how she fit his embrace. Gently touching her hair, he moved it away from her eyes so he could lose himself in their wild grey depths. He traced the tracks of her silent tears with his fingertips, down her cheek to her neck, pausing at the pulsepoint, reading her heart in its rapid beat. Murmuring, "Shan'wa'aia," he pressed his lips to hers, breathing, drinking her in, lost in the present moment, and happy to be so.

They stood that way for some time, speechless except for broken endearments, not moving except to touch and caress and kiss, trying to convince their doubting minds of each other’s presence. Finally Susan said, a little breathless, “I hate to be the one to say it, but we need to get going. We don’t have much time. I have to get you out of here, and stop John from coming planetside to confront Londo.”

Lennier looked at her, dumbstruck. “John is here? Does he know about the Drakh? Where is Anilia?” Then, he went on, “He can’t come down here! That is likely to be exactly what they want him to do!”

“The plan is to stop him; but we have to get you off planet, and up to the ship first.” Susan smiled at him, keeping her arms around his waist, unwilling to break contact.

“Why is he even here? Why are you here for that matter? All of this was unnecessary, and dangerous. The Council would have obtained my release eventually,” he protested. He still couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

“I came for you. John came for you, and after me as well." Raising one eyebrow, she continued, laughing softly, "What? Did you think we would leave you here, reliant on the tender mercies of Londo Mollari?”

He pulled her close again, and said, “I thank both of you for your concern. But I would not want either of you to risk your lives." He added emphatically, "Not you. Not for me.”

“Why not?” she answered slowly. “I love you. Wouldn't you have done the same thing?”

“I think I would.” He looked at her with a completely serious expression. “I know I would. That doesn’t make it the right course of action.” He sat down suddenly on the edge of the bed, and looked up at her in panic, “Are they looking for me? Shouldn’t we leave? You go, and I will follow later; we shouldn’t leave together.”

She sat down next to him. “We’re all set. Plans are laid, and we’ll be leaving shortly. They’re just giving us a little time,” she looked down, embarrassed, “Time to ourselves. I guess I’ve been a little tense lately.”

He couldn’t help it; the smile broke through his concern, “I also. It has been a tense time.” He placed his hands on tops of hers, which were clasped tightly in her lap. “I still can’t believe you came all this way, did all this, for me.

“That’s not everything. I think you should know…I’ve resigned as Anla’Shok Na.” At his stunned expression, she went on defensively, “John left me no choice. He was going to send me home. I couldn’t leave you here; and John’s got to be stopped, too. I had to do something!”

Lennier said soberly, “We both have intimate knowledge of the lengths to which a person in love will go. You must return to your position, Susan. The Anla’Shok need you.”

She bit her lip in frustration, “You may be right. Not that they need me, but I think I may need them. I’ll talk to John. Once we're back on the ship.”

“Good. You should be on your way then.”

She looked at him suspiciously, “You say that like you aren’t coming with us.”

“It is possible that I may be staying here.”

“What are you talking about? Half…hell, all of the Imperial Guards are combing the streets for you! What would possibly make you want to stay?”

“I made a promise. To Anilia.” He looked away from her face, which was awash with disbelief and a dawning sense of betrayal. “I asked her to leave her world, possibly forever, and in return, she asked me to stay and help her people, that is, the Centauri telepaths in Ker’s movement. I swore to her I would offer him my assistance, take her place in effect.”

“You can’t be serious." Susan tried to keep the desperation from her voice. "What can you do for them? You’re wanted by the authorities; you’re not a telepath…you’re not even Centauri!”

Her voice raked across him like shards of glass. “I have broken many oaths in my life, Susan. Do not ask me to break another.”

She was silent at that, although inside she felt rage and despair in equal measure. “I don’t understand,” she finally said plaintively.

“I know,” he said, misery in his voice. “I am sorry to disappoint you.” He took her chin in his hand, and turned her head to face him. “It is not what I want. You know that.” She was crying again, and he felt the hot tears splash on his hand, soaking the bandage, adding salt to the wound.

“We’d better go,” she said, standing up and wiping the tears quickly away. “The others are waiting.” She started towards the door.

He followed, fastening the buttons on his shirt, and tucking the ends into his soft drawstring trousers. “I’ll need shoes, I think.”

“Ever the practical Minbari,” she said bitterly, and pointed to the far side of the bed. “Your boots are there. We destroyed the clothes you were wearing. Vir brought along the things you'd left at his place.”

He looked down, a little embarrassed. “I must thank him for that courtesy.” He blushed a little as he realized she must have undressed, and dressed him again while he was unconscious. He grabbed the boots, and pulled them on. “I’m ready.”

“All right then. Ker’s probably back by now. Let’s get this over with.” She walked out the door without a backwards glance.

 

Downstairs the mood was quietly triumphant. Three members of Ker’s group had arrived back safely. They were missing only Ker himself, and the telepath Cilla. Vir and Lennier were still greeting one another, when there was a knock at the back door. Every face turned towards the hallway when Ker appeared in the doorway to the sitting room, his face grim.

“Cilla’s dead,” he said without preamble. “They captured Larra as well. Both their heads are hanging on the main gate to the Palace. Luckily they were killed before they were questioned. The guards were a little too enthusiastic. They say the Emperor is furious.” He sat down on the nearest chair in the hallway, and continued, “They are gathering up every telepath they can find, and their families. Most of my people that hadn’t already fled, are in hiding. All that I have heard from wish to leave Centauri Prime as soon as possible. My head is ringing with their cries.”

Vir, shocked and upset, asked “What do you want to do, Ker? Are you planning to emigrate, too? Perhaps go to Lyta Alexander’s homeworld for telepaths?”

Ker laughed bitterly, “It may be the only place left for us; the only place where we can be safe.” He stood again, his fists clenched at his side, “There is nothing left for me here. I’m going to Mars. Maybe I can find Lyta, and help her fight for our people.”

They all stood in silence for a moment. Then Susan took control, “Come with us, then. You need to get off planet as quickly as possible. We can drop you at a transit point, or even loan you a long range flyer. We need to move, and now.”

Turlann handed out the hooded cloaks they had used in the rescue operation. “Let us go. It’s not far to the port, and hopefully they haven’t closed down transit points yet.”

They said hasty farewells and thank-yous to Vir, and the remaining telepaths.

Vir waved at them from the door, and swore to them that he would have the others out of the city within the hour. After his friends had left, he shook his head sadly, thinking of Larra. He had known her a long time. She had always been eager to be of help, and he had often wondered if she fully understood the risks she ran. He thought to himself that none of them fully understood the risks, or they would be paralyzed, unable to act, and act they must, it seemed. He had to get to work, saving as many of the telepaths as he could, and then, find out what the Drakh were doing on Centauri Prime, and their connection with Londo.

The small group followed Turlann down the garden path to the back gate, walking swiftly. Lennier lagged behind, holding one hand against his aching ribcage. Susan dropped back to walk with him.

“I guess we’re traveling together a while longer,” she said, trying to unobstrusively support him with one arm. “Lean on me a little. You’ll be able to go faster.”

“I can assist Ker on Mars, and keep my promise that way. It will be a good deal safer, for both of us. Remember, you have a promise to keep as well. Nothing has changed.” He said, trying to forestall any pressure from her to change his mind and return to Minbar.

“I understand promises. I've made some myself. You promise to come back to me, or you’re not going.”

He smiled, though he grimaced simultaneously at the pain her pace was causing him. “You have my word.”

 

It was the middle of the night when John's comscreen lit up with the incoming message from Minbar. He'd set his own clock to palace time, since he would be dealing directly with the Centauri. Throwing back the covers, he got up and slipped on a robe, the crossed the small room to the glowing screen. It was a call relayed from outside, directly to his quarters. He sighed, it had to be important then. There were only a few people on that privileged list. He hit the button to receive the call, and smiled when he saw Delenn's face. "Hey," he said, "It's good to hear from you. Everything all right?" Privately he wondered why she was calling again; they'd talked earlier, right after he'd arrived, before he'd talked with Susan. _Uh oh_ , he thought, _she's heard about Susan_.

"I had a call from Susan with some disturbing news. Perhaps you have heard? We are losing her as leader of the Rangers?" Delenn's voice was clipped.

John winced, "I got the news a little while ago. She left a short taped message and her pin in her quarters. I was going to call you in the morning." He glanced over to the nightstand by his bed. Susan's Ranger pin lay there. He still hoped to persuade her to take it back, but he wasn't sure how.

"She will change her mind."

Delenn spoke without hesitation, and John started to ask her why she was so sure, then gave it up. She was sure, or she wouldn't have said it.

Delenn went on, "I also gathered I am to have a visitor, Vir's sister, in a few days…that she brings news that is even more disturbing than Susan's resignation."

 _I am in trouble_ , John thought. "Yes, I met with Anilia, and sent her back with her proof, such as it is. I'm dealing with this, Delenn. I have a request in to speak with Londo tomorrow afternoon. It's unclear whether these Drakh are on Centauri Prime with his approval or without; we need to know before we take any action."

"I see."

If he didn't know her so well, he might have been fooled by her aura of unconcern. As it was, he braced for her criticism of his plan.

"Where is Susan?"

He blinked; he hadn't expected that question at this time. "I believe she commandeered a flyer, and went back down to the planet. Vir and some telepaths he's been working with have a plan to free Lennier, tomorrow night I believe. She's probably gone down to see if she can help. He'll need to get off-planet if it works, so my guess is she plans to use the flyer to get him back up here. Her ship's headed back to Minbar already."

"Very well. I am going to ask you something, John. You are free of course to disregard my request. I will not 'pull rank' or give orders …not to you."

This was not going at all like he'd expected. "What is it?"

"Do not go down to the planet until Susan gets back, hopefully with Lennier. Talk to Londo if you must, but do it by com rather than in person. I know you are aware of the probability that this is a trap, and you must have decided the benefits outweigh the risks. I respect your decision. It puts me in an awkward position, however."

"How?" He wished he could reach through the screen to comfort her. Her voice was taut with tension, as she picked her way through the words that she undoubtedly hoped would dissuade or at least delay him.

"It is possible that three of the four most important people in my life would be trapped on Centauri Prime, in the control of, or running from a hostile Emperor, and an even more hostile alien race. A small contingent of White Stars, with Rangers aboard, would remain in orbit around the planet, surrounded by the entire Centauri fleet. I am working on quelling riots and civil wars on a dozen worlds already. Someone, possibly from PsiCorp, tried to assassinate Lyta Alexander today, and she killed several people in the aftermath of the attempt on her life. Things are difficult enough right now without the Alliance starting a war with Londo Mollari and the Drakh!"

Her voice rose on this last statement, and he had to agree it was an impressive argument. "It does sound bad when you put it that way," he said, "but we need to know what is going on!"

"Susan said she would talk with Vir. If he is willing…I know he will be interested…perhaps he can find out something about what the Drakh are doing there. You know they want you, John, for their own purposes, just as they wanted revenge on me all those years ago. We will deal with them, but if they have you in custody, it will make any action on my part, or the Alliance's, much more difficult."

He ran his hand through his hair, trying to think things through. "I'll wait a while, and see what Susan's up to. I'll talk with Londo from here, and see if I can get some idea of what's going on, and try to get him to see reason about Lennier."

"Good. Try to get out of this in one piece, please. None of this makes much sense, even allowing for Drakh influence."

"All right, one piece it is."

She caught him stifling a yawn, and said, "Go to sleep, love. You'll need all your wits about you with Londo. He's extremely adept at controlling a conversation."

"I remember. He could talk forever without actually saying anything. I'll check in with you tomorrow, once I have some news."

"Good. There is so much going on right now…" she sighed, and reached out to touch the screen. "Come home soon. I don't like your being away from me."

"As soon as I'm able. Good night."

"Until then. Good night."

He turned off the screen, and retuned to bed, but not to sleep.

 

Lyta was running, as hard as she could. She knew she had to get away, but she couldn’t remember who she was running from. The stitch in her side was slowing her down, and she was finding it harder and harder to breathe. She’d never realized how vital breathing was, how horrible it was to be unable to catch your breath. _Breathe_ , she told herself, panting from the exertion. _You have to breathe._

“Breathe, Lyta, that’s it, come on.”

“What’s wrong, Doc?”

“Not sure. The blast hit her side, maybe collapsed a lung. Doesn’t look like it, though. Does she have any allergies?”

“I don’t know!”

 _That was Zack_ , she thought. _Zack is here. He’s here to take care of me_.

“Should we get her to a hospital?”

“I don’t think so…the actual wounds aren’t bad. I can take care of them here. I’m not sure why she’s having trouble breathing.”

“It might not be safe for her in a public hospital, Zack. Not after what happened at the studio.”

 _Garibaldi was here too. What was he saying about the studio? Had something happened? The last thing she remembered she was talking to the Sorenson woman, and then there was pain…blinding pain. She was floating again, like she had been in the tank. That was why she couldn’t breathe! Couldn’t they see the fluid all around her? She started to panic, then felt lifted up, as it someone was holding her._

“There, she’s breathing easier now.”

“The drugs are taking effect, at last. I’ll dress the wounds now. It’s not as bad as it seemed at first, Mr. Allan.”

“Take good care of her, doc.”

“Come on, Zack. Let’s look at the tape again.”

“Ok, Chief.”

She felt pressure on her hand, and instinctively returned the squeeze before she drifted off, to the sound of beating wings.

The next morning, she awoke in her bed in the guest house. She started to sit up, but fell back against the pillow when the pain in her side blazed up.

“Hey,” said a voice near her head.

She turned her head towards the sound, and saw Zack smiling down at her. “Hey yourself,” she answered weakly. “What happened? I don’t remember much…”

“We’ll get into that later. First, let me call the doc to come in and take a look at you. He seems to think getting shot isn’t a big deal.” Zack laughed, “Bet he’s never been shot, though. It hurts.”

He left the room, and she was alone. She struggled up to a sitting position, determined to face the world upright at least. Zack returned with a short round fellow in a white coat. He listened to her breathe, and checked under the bandages, whistling the entire time.

“Could you stop that, please?” she asked. She’d never cared for whistling. The doctor told her to take it easy for a couple of days, gave her a shot for the pain, and left. She could hear him whistling again as Zack escorted him out of the suite.

She woke a short while later to the sound of voices outside her open bedroom door. Zack and Garibaldi, she thought, then called out, “Hey, you two want to bring that conversation in here? Or do I have to come out there?”

The two men appeared in the doorway. “You stay put,” Zack said. “Takes a while to get over being shot, you know.”

“I don’t know, actually, never having been shot before. Is that what happened? I still can’t remember anything.”

Garibaldi leaned against the wall in silence, while Zack looked at her uneasily. “You sure you want to talk about this now?” he asked.

“I’m sure. You two are driving me crazy. What happened?”

Zack sat down in a chair pulled up beside the bed. She wondered if he’d slept there.

“You want to tell her, Chief?” Zack asked, pleadingly.

“You were there, Zack. You do it,” answered Garibaldi impassively.

Zack tried to keep his voice level and noncommittal, but some of the horror seeped through. Lyta was stunned by the revelations, and even more upset by the knowledge of how the incident had probably set back her cause.

“Did they catch the guy who shot me?” she asked, when Zack was done.

He looked at her oddly, “Yeah, we got him. We had him in custody, but had to turn him over to the Mars cops. We heard a few hours ago that they released him to PsiCorp; he’s one of theirs, and they deal with rogue teeps in their own way.”

“What makes you think he was a rogue?” asked Lyta bitterly.

“That is the question, isn’t it?” broke in Garibaldi. “I’ll have him identified, and maybe we can find out.”  
“How are you going to do that?” asked Zack.

“I had my people take a DNA sample when they had him. I can find out.” Garibaldi looked at Lyta reflectively. “You don’t seem surprised that you killed a few people out there, in spectacular fashion. Is that some super Vorlon power you haven’t mentioned before?”

Lyta was silent for a moment. She sighed, and said, “I don’t understand everything about it, but I’ll tell you what I’ve figured out.”

“Go ahead, we’re listening,” said Garibaldi, his voice deliberately neutral.

“You both know I went to the Vorlon homeworld.” She settled back against the pillows. She hadn’t told anyone this story in a long time; a little to Byron, a little more to G’Kar. The Narn was a sympathetic, non-judgmental listener. “They altered me, in many ways, both large and small. Some of them I only found out later; there are probably many I still don’t know about. I don’t remember much about that time…”

Zack said, “So was it some kind of self defense thing? With the eyes, I mean?”

“Not exactly.” She swallowed hard, this wasn’t going to be easy to tell them. “Are you familiar with vickers?”

Garibaldi nodded, “Part machine, part organic. Aliens use ‘em to record anything; emotions, events, conversations. Haven’t seen one in years.”

Lyta continued, “Kosh used one once, back on the station, I believe. It was before my time. He recorded some strong emotions from Talia Winters.”

Garibaldi stiffened, “I remember that. He made her remember a scan she did of a serial killer, then recorded her reactions with a vicker. It was weird. We never did figure out why he did that.”

“I’m not sure either, but he…they apparently thought it was a nice feature, and gave it to me. Not that they told me about it. That I discovered myself, by accident.”

Zack looked at her with a mixture of sympathy and wariness. “How, exactly?”

Lyta sighed. This was the hard part. “When Byron…died…I tried to link into him, to shield him a little, from the pain, the trauma. He did his best to block me, but I’m stronger than that. I’m not sure how, but I recorded his death, the fire, the burning…I still see it sometimes, when I close my eyes.”

She closed her eyes, and both men wondered if she was seeing it now.

“So you recorded it.” Garibaldi was following her statement to the obvious conclusion. “And you can project it, is that it? Is that what happened to Ms. Sorenson and the guards? Can you control it?”

Lyta looked down, not wanting to meet their eyes. “Normally. I lost control once, while I was traveling with G’Kar. He saw what was happening, and talked to me until I got hold of myself. I had been hurt, physically hurt, that time as well. This sounds like it was a stronger projection though. I’ll need to see the tape.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Zack protested.

“I think I do. I need to know what I’m capable of, and if my control is slipping, I need to know that too.” Lyta said, with determination.

“I agree,” said Garibaldi. “We all need to know as much as we can about this, for damage control if nothing else. I’m not sure how we’re going to spin this in our favor, Lyta. It’s playing on people’s fears, and not in a good way.”

“I know. It’s unfortunate.” Lyta was lost in thought.

Zack looked from one to the other, uncomfortable with the conversation. “Unfortunate? For three people it was a little more than that.”

Lyta said quickly, “I know, but I have to understand what I did so it doesn’t happen again. I’ve had the feeling lately that I’m running out of time. I want to get this done; get the safe haven for my people established, and get the colony on a firm footing.”

Garibaldi looked at her, his eyes hooded and unreadable, “Okay, we’ll show you the tape. I’ll contact the government reps and try to get the talks moving again. We have unfinished business as well, remember.”

“I remember. We’ll do that right after I watch the tapes. I’ll fulfill my end of the bargain.” She looked over at Zack. “You don’t have to stay if it bothers you. I’m sure Garibaldi can answer my questions.” She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t want him around as she found out exactly what she’d done. She had the feeling her reactions might not be what he would like them to be.

“Zack, why don’t you go check out the guard that was injured? See if he’s remembered anything else,” said Garibaldi.

“Sure,” Zack said, somewhat relieved he didn’t have to see it all again. “I’ll go over the eyewitness reports again; maybe we missed something. That teep had to get in somehow. He couldn’t adjust the memories of everyone he came in contact with. I’ll meet you back here later.” He stood and headed for the door, stopping to say quietly to Garibaldi, “Go easy on her, okay? It sure seems like she wasn’t responsible for what happened.”

Garibaldi answered under his breath, “Oh, she was responsible, all right. Maybe not legally, but she’s responsible. At least she understands that.”

 

First thing in the morning, John put a call in to Emperor Mollari. He bullied his way through three layers of obsequious underlings, and finally got someone who left to check and see if the Emperor could take his call. Apparently Emperor Mollari was not an early riser. The under-minister returned, and said he would forward John’s call to the Emperor’s private suite. John smiled. Hopefully he would have Londo at a small disadvantage.

“Sheridan!” came a booming voice over the com. Londo was seated at a small table by an open window, a steaming cup of jalla at his elbow, and empty plates pushed to the back. He’d obviously been eating breakfast when the call came in. “What am I to call you now, hmmm? President Sheridan? Or does Delenn keep that title to herself these days? It must be hard to find yourself supplanted by your wife and your former subordinate. What do you find to do all day?”

“Oh, I keep busy. There are always little errands I can take care of for Delenn. Like coming over here to discuss this problem with Lennier. She really doesn’t have the time, but there it is. She’s worried, and I like to get away from Minbar once in a while. It’s killing two birds with one stone, isn’t it?”

Londo looked as if he was trying to translate the idiom internally, then said, “And Ivanova? What is her interest in Delenn’s little aide? She met with him, you know. It was an interesting meeting, in many ways. Emotional, but very understated.”

John was beginning the usual slow burn he associated with past discussions with Londo. “You spied on them? What’s your problem? Lacking in entertainment in the royal court these days?”

“Sheridan! You wound me. It was a practical matter. Lennier was not cooperating with our interrogators, and we need to know his involvement with our local telepaths. Those renegades have cause us significant difficulties the last few days.”

“It is not Lennier’s problem if you can’t control your own people. He was simply here to visit his old friend Vir, which I’m sure he told you at the beginning of this mess. He was returning from a mission for the Alliance in Vree space; Centauri Prime was on his way home.”

“So I have been told. Still, you must admit the timing is coincidentally suspicious.”

“Only if you have a suspicious mind.”

“Oh, but I do. I must, as a responsible ruler of my people. It would not be prudent otherwise.”

There was a loud noise at the door behind Londo, noises, and people scuffling. John watched in interest as Londo rose and went to the door to inquire what was going on.

The conversation was too indistinct for him to understand what was said, but from Londo’s body language, it was not good news.

“I have just been informed that the prisoner Lennier is gone, disappeared. One guard is dead, the others are incoherent. It appears there was telepathic involvement in the escape. Do you still wish to maintain the Minbari’s innocence?”

John tried to hide his surprise _. Good one, Susan. When your plans are about to be forestalled, move up the timing._ “The Alliance is not involved with your telepaths, or with this escape.”

“Are you saying that Ivanova, leader of your Rangers, had nothing to do with this? Do you expect me to believe this?”

John had to keep himself from reaching into his pocket, where he had put Susan’s Ranger pin. “Londo, I swear to you, Anla’Shok Na had nothing to do with Lennier’s escape. You have my word on that.”

Londo looked as if he had swallowed a lemon. “You have never been a liar, Sheridan. I must reluctantly accept your version of events. In any case, I have other things to do at this moment, and I must postpone our discussion for another time. Did you receive a time for our meeting this afternoon?”

“Not yet. I’ll wait for it. Of course, it’s possible that I’ll be called away before then. There are other more important things going on with the Alliance than one stray employee, especially when he is apparently no longer a prisoner.”

“Oh, we will find him, I am sure of that. Good-bye for now, Sheridan.”

“Your Excellency.” John switched off the com, and exhaled deeply. He hoped Susan was on her way back with Lennier. The sooner they got out of this system the better. Delenn had been right. Whatever was going on on Centauri Prime, it was best uncovered by people on the ground. He would bet almost anything that Londo was involved with the Drakh up to his neck.

 

On the flyer heading into space to rendezvous with Sheridan’s White Star, the mood was subdued but exhilarated. Ker sat in the front with Turlann, watching him fly the craft, asking questions and trying to learn the controls. Lennier had fallen asleep again, and Susan had laid him gently across two seats in the back and covered him with a light blanket. Maeve watched with interest this new aspect of her commanding officer. She chatted with Maeve, consulted with Turlann, answered Ker’s questions, yet her attention was fixed on the man asleep in the back. When Turlann got near enough to the White Star to hail it, Susan asked to speak with John directly.

“Request permission to come aboard, sir,” she said, uncertain of what rank to give him. She’d always been told that when in doubt, a ‘sir’ was never amiss.

“Granted. Do you need medical assistance?” John’s voice, warm with welcome and concern, filled the cabin.

Susan smiled, “No, not really. I would like to request a meeting however. I’m bringing trouble, John.”

“So I’ve gathered. Well, it won’t be the first time we’ve faced down Centauri warships, and possibly won’t be the last. Come aboard. I’ll have you escorted to my quarters.”

“Aye, sir. Ivanova out.”

Once aboard, the five of them were swiftly escorted to John’s quarters. He welcomed them all, clapping Lennier on the back, which elicited a wince of pain from the stoic Minbari. He listened to a bare recital of the facts of the escape, thanked Ker for his efforts, then asked Turlann and Maeve to find him and themselves some quarters aboard.

Once they were alone, Susan found herself oddly reluctant to bring up her resignation. She didn’t know how John had taken her decision, and she had never liked disappointing him. The three of them sat in the living area, grouped around a low table. Susan and Lennier sat next to each other, close but not touching, and John was opposite them.

“John, I…I don’t know what to say. I felt I had to quit, and now I wish I hadn’t. I guess that sums it up.”

“It turned out lucky, actually. I was able to assure Londo with a straight face that Anla’Shok Na was not involved in Lennier’s escape.” He chuckled at the memory. “Still, that leaves us with a position to fill. Do you have any suggestions?”

Susan looked distinctly anxious and upset. Lennier took pity on her, and said, “I believe the ideal candidate is seated right here, Entil’zha. Perhaps you could overlook her idiosyncracies and lack of discipline. She was well trained, an officer in EarthForce, and I believe served under a well-regarded commander in the Great War.”

John broke in, thoughtfully, “Sounds good. How is she at human-Minbari relations?”

Lennier didn’t skip a beat, “I have some knowledge of that aspect of her experience, and consider her more than normally accomplished in that area.”

Susan was fighting back her blushes; she’d never taken well to being teased. “That’s enough! Are you going to take me back, or not?”

“Was there ever any doubt?” John pulled out her Ranger pin from his pocket, and set it on the low table. “Lennier, would you do the honors?”

He picked up the pin, and fastened in to the shoulder of her cloak. “Entil’zha Veni, Anla’Shok Na.”

Clearing his throat to get past the lump in it, John asked, “So what do we do now? We still have to get out of here and back to Minbar. We can worry about getting Ker on his way to Mars once we’re past the gate. Suggestions?”

“Let’s just go. Say you’ve been recalled, some emergency relating to the telepath crisis,” said Susan.

“What about Lennier? Will Londo believe we’ve just decided to give up on him? The Emperor seems to have gotten the impression Lennier’s important to some of us,” said John, trying to keep a straight face.

“If you notified the Grey Council, I would expect them to be sending an envoy to obtain my release. That is the usual practice with Minbari citizens detained on worlds with no ambassador. We do not like to leave our people in jeopardy. Could you not say that you have been called away, but that a Minbari vessel is en route? I am supposed to be somewhere in hiding on Centauri Prime. This would give them the Centauri a chance to re-capture me, and save face in that way,” Lennier put forward.

“It could work,” John mused. “It all depends on what in the world they were up to, and I don’t think we know enough about that yet. Worth a try, I suppose, and there’s always running like hell if that doesn’t work. They’re supposed to call me with a time for my audience with his Excellency. I suggest we short-circuit their timing, and send our message now. The sooner we’re on our way back to Minbar, the better.”

Susan looked down at the floor, and Lennier looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“What is it?” asked John, “Or should I say, what is it now?”

Susan spoke up, still focused on the floor, “Lennier’s going with Ker, to Mars.”  
John started to speak, then turned his attention to Lennier, “Care to fill me in?”

“It is a promise I made to Anilia Cotto, in return for her agreeing to present her evidence to the Alliance on Minbar. She wanted me to help Ker, on Centauri Prime originally, but circumstances have changed since she left. The Centauri telepath rebellion is in disarray. Vir is helping them to hide, and eventually escape, but they have no future here anymore. Ker has decided his best way to help his people is to assist Lyta on Mars—the homeworld for telepaths will be one place the Centauri telepaths can go and live in safety.” Lennier answered, with only an occasional glance at Susan to see how she was taking his explanation. She’d heard it before, of course, but he suspected she still wasn’t finding it easy to accept.

John nodded slowly, “Not a bad idea of Ker’s. And I suppose you feel obligated to fulfill your promise, even though things have changed. It’ll be safer for you on Mars, and to tell the truth, I would like one of us to speak directly with Michael, and Lyta, and find out what’s going on behind the scenes. Michael is in contact with us, but he’s not had time to keep us well informed.”

Susan kept silent, and Lennier continued, “Thank you. I would be happy to combine the two missions. I imagine my vow will be fulfilled by accompanying Ker and putting him in contact with the relevant parties. Then I can return."

“Well then, once we get out of Centauri space, you can take one of the smaller White Stars on to Mars.” He looked at Susan, who had said nothing. “It would be best if you came back to Minbar.”

“I know, and I intend to. There’s a lot to do. I imagine Anilia’s news will be quite the bombshell. How does Delenn intend to handle it?”

“I have no idea. Another headache in a series of them. We can’t make a general announcement, but the ambassadors will have to be briefed, I suppose. It’s going to be difficult to navigate between too little and too much information. Right now, I have to go call Centauri Prime, and ask some court flunky to convey my regrets to the Emperor. Then we’ll move out, and see how it goes. Do you want to take command of one of the ships, Susan?”

“Let’s see what happens with Londo. As far as he knows, I’m on my way to Minbar, right? I’ll just stay out of sight.” She turned to Lennier. “That goes double for you, of course.”

John smiled to himself, thinking perhaps both of them should go off somewhere together, since the tension between them could be cut with a knife. “Okay, let me try this dodge with his Excellency, then we’ll see where we stand.” He looked sternly at Susan, “By the way, that was a cheap trick you played on me, calling Delenn and letting her know my plans.”

Susan almost smirked, “I had to speak to my commanding officer to submit my resignation. Remember the chain of command, John.”

He gave her a you’re-gonna-regret-that look, and shooed them out of the room, in order to go and find quarters for themselves, and to check on their companions. After they left, he put in the call to Centauri Prime. After listening to much officious jockeying by the lower level information officers, he was put directly through to Londo.

“Sheridan? What is this, then? I will take direct offense if you decline my hospitality today! We have been preparing an appropriate reception for you!” said Londo.

 _I’ll just bet you have_ , thought John. “I am truly sorry, Londo, but this telepath crisis just got hotter. Someone tried to kill Lyta Alexander on Mars. The local governments have asked the Alliance to intervene and assist in the investigation, and we’re short-handed right now, what with all the riots on multiple worlds. Besides, you no longer have our employee in custody, do you?” He couldn’t resist the dig.

“I expect that situation to change at any moment. The Imperial Guard is quite thorough, and they will find him. What should we do with him when we do? Does the Alliance no longer have an interest in his fate?”

“The Grey Council is sending an envoy to deal with the situation. Lennier is a citizen of the Minbari Federation, after all. They will be here within two days. I would take it as a personal favor if you held off on any penalties until they arrive to take over negotiations.”

John tried his best to sound both anxious and accommodating.

“I see.” Londo thought hurriedly. The Drakh would be displeased, but perhaps it was for the best. He could find a way to placate them. “Very well, then. Have a nice trip! The next time we meet, I hope it is on different terms.”

The screen blanked, and John was left wondering what all this had really been about. He suspected he would find out eventually, and he was certain he wouldn’t like it.

 

Susan and Lennier found themselves alone in a smallish room, one of the guest rooms on the ship. Turlann and Maeve were bunking in the communal crew sleeping areas, while Ker was just down the hallway from them. No one had blinked when they’d requested only one room, which was pleasant if a little surprising. They were in the practice of being discreet. They didn’t hide their relationship, but they didn’t advertise it either, even now, even at home.

Still, Lennier felt they were both aware that a subtle line had been crossed. Susan’s actions had spoken, if not shouted, the depths of their affection to the Rangers, and also to the Centauri involved. His own reactions had also not been hard to read.

It was awkward being alone with her, and he was almost glad when she excused herself to get cleaned up in the small attached bath. He removed his boots, and the cloak Turlann had loaned him, folding it carefully and placing it on the chest at the end of the bed. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he attempted to clear his mind, but the splashing water and noises from the bath kept intruding. Sighing, he remembered his attempts to meditate in his cell. It hadn’t worked then either. She was bad for his discipline, he thought, but he had to admit at that moment he didn’t really care.

She emerged, her hair loose around her face, and her shirt open at the throat, revealing a white curve of breast when she leaned over to lay her folded clothes on top of his cloak.

Looking up, her eyes were caught by his, and flame leaped from one to the other. He grasped her wrist, and tumbled her onto the bed and into his embrace. Tangling his hands in her hair, he pulled her close and kissed her roughly. Running his hands over her possessively, he touched every inch of her he could reach, pushing her clothes off, pausing only to unbutton or unzip where absolutely necessary. It was like fire raced along his nerve endings, and only the cool softness of her skin could keep him from erupting into flame.

She paused, pulling away from him, panting slightly, and gasped, “Are you sure this is a good idea? John said he would let us know what Londo had to say; he could call at any moment…”

“John Sheridan is a wise man, and he will know better than to disturb us immediately short of war or plague. I would bet my life on that.” He kissed her again, softly this time, but it quickly deepened as she leaned into him, and he felt rather than heard her softly moan as he resumed his explorations.

Then she stood up, and gestured him to stand as well. She slowly, carefully, undressed him, maneuvering his clothes over the bandages and tape that crossed his body in so many places. Tears stood in her eyes as she surveyed the mostly superficial damage that the Centauri had done. Hiding her pain, she said, “I know I told you scars are sexy, but you didn’t have to go out and get some more on my account.”

He laughed silently, “I will remember that next time. I’m sure my jailers will keep your desires in mind.”

Gently pushing on his shoulders, indicating he should sit on the bed, she straddled his legs. “My desires are no one’s business but my own….” She gasped as his tab’he slid up her thigh and across his clit on its way to its destination. “And yours.”

His eyes closed as he slipped inside her and she tightened around him. He reached up around her back to her strong muscular shoulders, then ran his hands down to her slender waist. She was perfect, and he couldn’t remember what madness had led him to leave her side in the first place, and even less what was driving him to leave her again.

When the initial paroxysm subsided for them both, she laid down beside him and they came slowly down from the heights they’d ascended, with gentle caresses that sent tingling aftershocks shooting through their bodies. Her eyes kept closing; it had been almost two days straight since she’d slept, but he kept his open, gazing at her face.

On the verge of slumber, she murmured, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re memorizing my face. Like you don’t expect to ever see me again.”

"I have no particular expectations in this life, Susan. I have desires; I have dreams. I love you and accept all that you are willing to give, but I put no expectations on the Universe, or on you. Now sleep, shan’wa’aia. They will wake us if there is need."

She could feel his fingers still stroking her face as she dropped, smiling, into a deep peaceful sleep,.

A few hours later, she heard the subdued chirp of her link. It had been buried in her clothes which were scattered over the floor. Rolling quietly out of bed, she found the com screen blinking with an incoming message. She quickly found her shirt and pulled it on, buttoning it swiftly. Running her fingers through her tangled hair to straighten it, she stood in front of the screen, blocking the view of the room and bed, and said “Receive message, volume low.”

John’s face filled the screen, and he said, “I’m truly sorry to interrupt, Susan, but I thought you would want to know I’ve spoken to Londo, and we’re moving towards the jump gate now. There doesn’t seem to be any problem with our leaving, though I’ll be damned if I know what the old reprobate was up to with this whole charade. He may have just been playing with us.”

She nodded, and asked, “Have you spoken with Delenn yet?”

“I’m waiting until we’re all safely through the gate. Once we’re in hyperspace, it’s unlikely the Centauri will come after us. It’d be difficult, if not impossible to track us, and we’re heading towards Mars rather than Minbar, which I doubt they’re expecting.” He added, “How’s Lennier? He looked a little banged up; you sure he couldn’t use a turn with the medics before he sets off again?”

“He’s fine, really. I wish he wouldn’t go, but it would have been worse if he’d tried to stay on Centauri Prime and help Ker. I don’t know what that woman was thinking, making him promise something like that. Some kind of zealot, I suppose.”

“She seemed all right, but we’ll find out more about her soon. I’m sure Delenn can handle her in any case. You get some more sleep. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”

“Thanks, John, for everything.”

He simply nodded, and cut the link. She kept on her shirt, but crawled back into the bed, pulling the thin blanket up over her. Lennier didn’t feel the cold, and slept better uncovered. She pressed up against him, and fell promptly back to sleep.

 

Londo had not yet finished his jalla when the Drakh appeared from their hidden entrance to his chamber. He hated that they had set up hidden ways in and out of every room he occupied in the Palace. He felt that he was never alone, and he wasn't. They had made sure of that when they had given him the ‘gift’ of a Keeper.

“You said releasing the female would ensure Sheridan’s presence here. Now he knows we are here, yet he will not come.”

Londo nodded and cleared his throat before beginning his explanation, “It has not worked out exactly as I had hoped.” The Drakh glared at him. Of course, he thought, they only really had one expression, that of bilious dislike. He continued, placatingly, “We have to let the ships go. If we attack now, without Sheridan on the surface as a hostage, it will go badly with us.”

“Thanks to you, they know we are here! You will be punished for this, Mollari.”

Londo sighed, he had known that when he had started this foolhardy escapade. “We are strong, and growing stronger. They will not act immediately, and it is doubtful they will even publicize your presence. It would cause a panic. Look on the positive side! We have ridden ourselves of the telepaths you despise, and anticipation and waiting will soon turn to fear in the hearts of the Alliance.”

The Drakh was silent, as if considering the point. “You will still pay for this error. We will have our revenge, and then we will resume our program for the younger races. Our long range plans to cripple the Alliance are still operable. I will consult with the others.” He glided behind the curtain hiding the door, and was gone.

Londo grimaced. He was sure that his punishment would not be pleasant. Still, he didn’t regret his actions. When Vir's sister had discovered his secret; he had no choice but to detain her. Then the chance had arisen to arrest Lennier, and he had jumped at it. It was perfect: Anilia tells her story to Lennier in their jail cell, Lennier identifies the aliens as Drakh, Anilia is then released to Vir, and Vir contacts the Alliance with the story. In truth, he was glad to use Anilia in this way. He would have hated to have had her killed, and to witness the effect of her death on his poor friend Vir.

Then, when the inevitable war began, the Alliance would not know whether he was working with the Drakh, or was being controlled by them. Knowing Sheridan and Delenn as he did, he expected them to mitigate their response against Centauri Prime if they thought the Drakh were forcing him to cooperate.

The reaction to Lennier's detention had exceeded his expectations; first Ivanova, then Sheridan himself, had come to Centauri Prime looking for their misplaced errand boy. He had to adjust his strategy after the Drakh had discovered Anilia’s release, as they had become terribly angry. He had promised them Sheridan in return, and they had positively glowed in anticipation. Sheridan’s capture would have complicated matters, but he thought he could have made it work. In a way, he was relieved he hadn’t had to. The word about the Drakh presence was now out there. He had only to find Lennier, and make sure he was killed resisting arrest, and this little adventure would be over. Some days, he sighed, it seemed like it would never be over.

 

Once they were past the gate, John called Delenn and updated her on what was happening. He had seldom seen her more pleased; with his incipient return, with Susan’s reinstatement, and with Lennier’s release from captivity. Susan and Lennier showed up to ask about outfitting the White Star Lennier was to take to Mars. They called Turlann and Maeve to escort Ker there as well. Susan revealed that she was returning to Minbar, and asked Turlann to come with her, since Anilia Cotto had seemed to trust him. Maeve asked permission to accompany Lennier and Ker to Mars. Turlann looked disturbed at this request, but Susan accepted gratefully. She’d begun to have almost a superstitious feeling about Callahan; that she brought good luck to any mission she was on. It would be a nice safe trip for the new Ranger, too, unlike the first one on which she’d embarked.

They gathered in the docking bay that afternoon to see off the travelers. Susan and Lennier had said their good-byes in private, and their public farewells were restrained. Maeve was exuberant, and took a private moment to assure Susan that she would bring Lennier back to her. Susan smiled a bit awkwardly, but returned the young woman’s bow, and told her to be careful and do as she was told. Maeve bowed her solemn assent, but her eyes were laughing.

Once they were gone, Susan was due to return to one of the Arrow class ships she’d piloted in, taking command for the return home. Before she left she stopped to see John, and found he was talking to Delenn again on the com. “What is it with you two? Can’t you go a few hours without checking on each other?”

John looked at her, his eyes worried, “Come over here and listen to this, Susan. We’ve got more trouble on Mars.”

Delenn’s voice was strained as she told them what had happened. “I told you Lyta was attacked earlier. Her assailant was determined to be PsiCorp. They’ve disavowed all knowledge, saying the man went rogue, but it is not really believable. Michael has determined his identity, I do not know how, and he is a high level functionary, a former PsiCop.”

Susan whistled, “That’s bad, but not terribly surprising.”

“There’s more, and worse.” Delenn went on, pain in her voice. “There are non-PsiCorp telepaths living hidden on Mars, blips they are called. They are looking to Lyta’s homeworld as salvation from their fugitive life. A group of them was furious at the assassination attempt. In retaliation, they have taken over a PsiCorp school on Mars. They are holding 150 children hostage, aged 5 to 15. They say they will start killing them if the Earth and Mars government does not immediately recognize the telepath homeworld, allow and fund mass emigration for all telepaths who wish it, and dissolve PsiCorps. They have already killed several of the children’s teachers, and they say they have mined the building and will detonate the explosives if anyone tries to intervene.”

John and Susan looked at each other in silence. This changed everything. They had sent the White Star into what might turn out to be a war zone.

“Oh God,” said Susan. “Lennier.”

“Not the easy mission we’d hoped for, is it?” said John, shaking his head. “We’ll figure out something, Susan.” He said good-bye to Delenn, then put one arm around Susan, and walked her away from the screen, now flashing pictures from Mars of angry crowds, riot police, explosions, and fire.

 

 

 


	5. Death Shall Have No Dominion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far—
> 
> In Part I: Collateral Damage, we find out Lyta Alexander has set up a homeworld for telepaths with the assistance of G'Kar. She solicits the support of the Alliance, and gets some, but not all, of what she wants.
> 
> In Part II: All Politics is Local, Lennier has stopped off on Centauri Prime prior to returning to Minbar. The Centauri telepaths rise in revolt. Londo has Lennier detained. Acting against John and Delenn's wishes, Susan leaves for Centauri Prime with a small group of Rangers to free Lennier.
> 
> In Part III: Though Hell Should Bar the Way, Lennier and Anilia remain imprisoned on Centauri Prime. Susan arrives to speak with Londo, but finds he has outmaneuvered her, and also released Anilia into Vir’s custody. John Sheridan arrives, and calls Susan up to his ship for a little ‘heart-to-heart.’ Anilia reveals a secret; Susan makes a choice.
> 
> In Part IV: Promises to Keep, Lennier is finally free, but not free to return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the Lennier/Ivanova AU, set in 2273
> 
> Rated:R for violence and death

 

 

Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words.

 

Part V: Death Shall Have No Dominion

 

 **  
**Anilia Cotto was walking down an empty corridor towards the double doors leading into the garden outside the IA headquarters. She'd been spending as much time as she could in the garden since she'd arrived on Minbar. The first day had been a blur, being shown her rooms, then a flurry of meetings; first a private one with President Delenn, and then a brief one with several other ambassadors. She spent even more time that afternoon and this morning with Minbari telepaths poking around her mind, pulling out her memories of the Drakh, and putting them on display. Her head hurt constantly, although the telepaths complimented her on her ability to share thoughts across species. Apparently it was not a common trait.

Reaching the simple wooden bench that she had chosen as a retreat, she collapsed onto it. It stood by a small raised pond, level with the bench seat. There was a short, tumbling fountain at the rear where the rough stone wall rose to a triangular peak. She had found the garden on her way back to her rooms after her first meeting with Delenn, which had left her both impressed and stunned. The President was both the most personable and the most frightening person she had ever met. Leaning over to run her fingers through the cool water, she watched the eddies swirl around them. She felt like she’d been plunged into a rushing stream, carried away from her home, her brother, her friends, and her cause. She’d never been more scared in her life; not even in the jail cell with Lennier. She smiled slightly. The Minbari was so steady and reliable; she found herself wishing he was here. Perhaps it had not been the best idea to make him promise to take her place assisting Ker. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him on Centauri Prime. On the other hand, she also could not stand the thought of anything happening to Ker.

“Hello?”

She looked around wildly for a moment before noticing a child standing just behind her.

“Did you come to feed the placa?" He held out a small clear bag. "I brought some crumbs. They like the dark ones best.”

She shook her head, “What is a placa? Do they live around here?”

He laughed and pointed at the water, “There’s one nibbling at your finger!”

Jerking her hand from the water, she saw a smooth spotted animal slide further into the deep of the pool. “Do they bite?” she asked in fascination.

“No! Well, they bite the crumbs, but that is not what you meant, is it?” The boy sat on the raised edge of the pond, balancing the bag of food on the stones. He reached inside, and pulled out a handful, “Now, watch.” He carefully let them fall from his fingers onto the surface of the water.

Anilia watched in interest as the placa rose, one by one, to the surface, seemingly taking turns to feed on the crumbs. There was no fighting or splashing; just the orderly rise and fall of the animals, their whiskered snouts breaking the surface and sending ripples along the dark water. You couldn’t seem them until they were almost at the top, as the sun didn’t penetrate very far into the pond. Anilia took a moment to look at the boy feeding them. He looked human, with light brown hair and bright blue eyes, but was dressed in Minbari clothing, although his robe was short, and he was wearing louse trousers under it. He seemed vaguely familiar. He looked up and flashed her a brilliant smile, and she was startled to realize he strongly resembled John Sheridan. She knew he and Delenn had a child, and she guessed this must be him.

“I am Anilia Cotto…” she began.

“I know. You’re Vir’s sister, aren’t you? What’s Centauri Prime like? I’ve never been there. I’ve never been anywhere…well, twice to Proxima, and one I went all the way to Earth! When I become a Ranger, I’m going to go everywhere!” After this burst of enthusiasm, he fell silent, then hurriedly added, “Oh, and my name is David Sheridan, Secha Cotto. I am very pleased to meet you.” He gave her a deep bow.

She inclined her head in return, “And I you, David Sheridan. Do you come here often, to feed these…placa?”

“I don’t get the chance very often. I have lessons, all the time. There is a small pond in the garden outside our home, but it’s not big enough for placa.”

“How did you come here today, then?”

He looked around, furtively, and whispered, “I told my tutor I had forgotten my book at home, and he let me go back for it.”

“Did you go home?”

“Of course! Minbari do not lie…the book is here,” and he showed her an inner pocket in his robe. “I went and fetched it, and the bag of crumbs for the placa. I’ll go back soon and finish my lessons.” He scattered the last of the crumbs on the water, and sat on the bench next to her. “It is too nice a day to spend all of it inside, studying. Don’t you agree?”

She had to smile at his appeal. “Of course. And you are entertaining a guest of your mother’s, aren’t you? A very necessary task.”

He beamed in reply. His face fell a bit then, and he said, “Have you seen my mother today? I haven’t seen her since this morning. She’s been terrifically busy lately, and Dad’s away, too…though Mother says he’ll be back soon.”

Anilia thought the child sounded lonely. “How old are you, David?” she asked.

“In Earth years, or Minbari cycles?” he asked seriously. “I am eleven years old. I wonder how old I would be in Centauri…what are the Centauri units of time?”

Anilia laughed, “We measure time in decats. I don’t know how they would correspond to years or cycles! Tell me about your tutors, your friends…I know nothing about Minbari culture! Are there no schools; are all children taught at home or do you have tutors due to your parent’s status?”

David looked down, and bit his lip, “I’m not sure exactly. I’d like to go to school, but I think my parents are afraid.”

"Afraid of what?" Anilia wondered at the child's trust in her. Was she so non-threatening, or was his world so secure that trust came easily to him? If the second, why would his parents be afraid to let him go to school?

David said, with a touch of sad defiance, "I am different, Secha. Different from everyone." He unconsciously reached up and ran his hand through his thick hair, briefly revealing the vestigial bone crest hidden within.

Anilia suddenly realized what he was talking about, a human-Minbari mix, truly he was different from other children, human or Minbari. Trying to comfort him, she confided, "I know what that is like. When I was only 5 years old, my mother found out that I could see into her mind."

"You are a telepath? That must be wonderful…could you tell what she was thinking?" He paused, and then asked anxiously, "Can you tell what I am thinking?"

"No," she laughed. "First of all, I have taken vows to not do so without permission of the person who wants scanned. Also, I have to try, and I am not trying, I promise you! Still, it was hard when I had to leave my parents and go to a special school for telepaths. I think I would have preferred to stay at home. That is why I never met my brother until we were both adults. He was born long after I left."

"It must be nice to have a brother, though. I wish I had one. I have cousins, but they are older than me, and I don't see them very often. They live on Proxima."

"Well, I miss Vir already. He is my little brother. Perhaps you could stand in for him while I am here?"

David said, "I think that would be all right. If you were my sister, would you tell my mother I delayed going back to my tutor?"

"I certainly would not! We would have to stick together on these things."

“That’s good.”

He sounded relieved, and Anilia wondered if his mother was strict with him. She didn’t remember her own mother well, but Vir said she had been loving and indulgent with him.

“Secha?” David started.

“Call me Anilia, please.” Even a child speaking her name would be better than no one. A lump formed in her throat, as she faced once again the realization of her exile.

“Are all telepaths related in some way? My tutors have told me some of the news, about the homeworld, and it seemed like they wanted all kinds of telepaths to go there.”

Anilia was silent for a moment. “I think, what they meant, is that what we have in common, that is, telepathy, is more important than our differences.”

 

"David!" The voice sounded across the garden, and they both jumped. David looked up and shouted in joy, then pelted across the lawn towards the two approaching figures.

“Aunt Susan! Is Dad home?” He flew into her arms, and received a bear hug in return.

“He’s home, squirt, and so am I!” Susan lifted David off the ground with her return embrace. “Your Dad’s with your Mother, but they’ll be looking for you soon. Shouldn’t you be at lessons right now?”

David, once returned to his feet, made a polite bow to Turlann, who accompanied Susan, and pointed back towards Anilia. “I was talking to Secha Cotto. She’s very nice, come and meet her.” He took Susan’s hand and pulled her along in his enthusiasm. Turlann followed, more slowly.

“Here she is! This is Anilia, Aunt Susan. Anilia, this is Susan Ivanova. She leads the Rangers.”

“We’ve met, David,” Susan said gently to the boy, letting go of his hand. She bowed to Anilia, and said neutrally, “Sera Cotto. I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

“It was most pleasant, and I was pleased to hear that Lennier had been freed.”

Susan bowed her head in agreement, and Anilia continued, a little anxiety entering her voice. “I heard nothing regarding Ker, or the others. Do you know anything of their future plans, or of Lennier’s?”

Susan restrained her temper with difficulty. The silly woman knew what Lennier’s plans were. Then she realized that Anilia had probably heard little of what had happened after she’d left Centauri Prime, and she sat down beside her on the bench. “Turlann,” she said, “perhaps you could escort David inside. I’m sure his parents are looking for him, and if not, his tutor surely is.”

Turlann nodded, and said, “I will return shortly.” David bowed to Susan and to Anilia, and then went off with Turlann, pelting him with questions the two women could hear clearly all the way to the building.

“Anilia, I’m afraid I have some bad news…” she stopped the Centauri woman’s questions with a gesture and continued, “Vir is fine, and Ker, but two members of the rescue party were captured. I’m afraid the Emperor had them killed.”

Anilia tensed, and asked, “Who?”

“The woman at the Palace, Larra, and a telepath named Cilla. I am truly sorry.”

Silent for a moment in her shock, Anilia stared at Susan, then said, “Larra? Great Maker, she had so little to do with all this! She only helped us out of friendship…and Cilla? She was so young, just out of school. She had just been betrothed, to another telepath. Did anyone tell Runne? He must be devastated!” She stifled a sob, then asked tentatively, “What of Ker? Is he continuing with the rebellion? What will he do?”

Susan sighed. How did she luck into this job? “The rebellion was crushed. Most of the telepaths have either left Centauri Prime, or are in hiding preparing to leave. Ker decided to go to Mars, to join up with Lyta Alexander, and work with her on establishing the telepath homeworld.”

Almost afraid to ask, Anilia said timidly, “Did Lennier go with him then?”

Susan counted to ten before she answered, “Of course he went with him! Isn’t that what you wanted? What you asked him to do?”

Anilia lifted her chin defiantly, “He was free to agree or not. I didn’t force anything on him, if that’s what you thinking.”

“That’s not the point! You couldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to do, but asking him to stay on Centauri Prime was putting him at great risk, and for what? There wasn’t much he could do to help Ker there; you must have known that!”

Anilia replied somewhat miserably, “I didn’t think that far ahead. I just knew I was going to have to leave, and they needed help.” At Susan’s accusatory look, she snapped, “Are you upset that he promised to help, or that he promised to help me?”

Susan stood at that, and said icily, “I’m afraid I have to go. I have a great to deal to do. Have a pleasant stay on Minbar, Sera Cotto. Once again, I am sorry for your loss.” As she turned and walked away, she fervently hoped she wouldn’t be seeing Anilia again any time soon.

 

Turlann had quickly found David’s tutor, who had searched the complex, and was on his way to the garden when they encountered him. Entrusting his charge to the relieved Minbari, he informed him that the boy was wanted at home. He then returned to the garden. When he got back, he found Anilia alone, trailing one hand in the water, looking quite downcast.

He approached quietly, uncertain whether she wanted company at this time, and wondering where Anla’Shok Na had gone. Ivanova had asked him to look after Anilia, help her ‘settle in’ as she put it. The Centauri didn’t look up, and he stood for a moment, then made up his mind. “May I join you?” and he sat down beside her. “You’ve made a friend, you know. The boy spoke quite fondly of you as we walked.”

She looked up at him, and smiled. “He is easy to like. He reminds me of his father.”

“I always found him more like his mother myself, but then I know her rather better than Entil’zha Sheridan.”

“How long have you known them then? And, by the way, it is good to see you again.”

“And you also, Sera. I first met Delenn over twenty years ago. I joined the Anla’Shok just after the end of the war.”

“The war against the Shadows? I know little of that conflict, I’m afraid.”

Turlann smiled, “No, the war we waged against the humans. I am rather older than you think.”

“The Rangers are a mystery to me. On Centauri Prime they are feared, and despised as agents of the Alliance. My brother tells me they do valuable work, and then you came to rescue Lennier...”

“Perspectives differ.” Turlann inclined his head towards her. “Would you like to hear more? It seems you may be staying on Minbar a while, and it might help you to know some of our history.”

Anilia nodded eagerly, and Turlann proceeded to give her a condensed version of the over thousand year history of the Anla’Shok. At the end, she sat in silence, digesting what she had heard. Turlann slipped into silent meditation, awaiting any questions.

“Where does Lennier fit into this? Is it solely his relationship with Sera Ivanova that led you to come to Centauri Prime? Or did President Delenn send you; he works for the Alliance, does he not?”

Turlann hesitated, some of the issues she was raising were personal, and he was not sure he should be discussing them. On the other hand, the Centauri female was involved already, and it might help her to understand the situation. “Lennier was Anla’Shok at one time, but is no longer. Anla’Shok Na leads us, but is not yet one of us; though she is progressing rapidly through the training, and will soon take her vows. This is somewhat rare actually. Many leaders of the Rangers are not Rangers themselves. Delenn took some training to familiarize herself with our traditions, but Entil’zha Sheridan has had none.”

Anilia looked confused, but focused on one piece of information. “Why did Lennier leave your group? Was this before or after Ivanova took over as leader?”

“Long before. And that story is not mine to tell. You may ask Lennier when he returns, but do not be surprised if he does not answer; he seldom discusses it.”

Anilia changed tacks. Leaning forward, she asked, “Why was Ivanova angry that Lennier went with Ker to Mars? I thought she was worried he would not be safe on Centauri Prime…so why not be pleased at the change in destination? Or is she just annoyed he is not coming back here immediately?”

Turlann was grateful he’d taken the few moments to arrange his thoughts in meditation. This was a tangled web of emotions he was being asked to navigate. “Her worry is that Mars is no longer safe. Word came soon after Lennier and Ker left that a hostage situation had arisen there. Some children are involved, and there are protests and riots; the situation is both confused and perilous. She worries because she cares, not only about Lennier, but the others involved, friends and also innocents caught up in the fighting.”

Anilia settled back onto the bench, and exhaled. “That is unfortunate.” She closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples with the palms of both hands. “I wish my head would stop aching. Your telepathic investigators are quite thorough.”

“I can get you some medication for your pain. Have they finished their work yet?”

“I think so. I hope so…it was interesting though. Your people have some novel ideas on telepathic interrogation and recording.”

“If you are interested in such things, perhaps you could work with them. I know a need for psychic healers has recently arisen, and they are short-handed. Could you do such work?”

“I don’t know,” Anilia said hesitantly. “They tell me I can walk in Minbari minds quite well for an alien. I had little difficulty sharing my memories with Lennier in the cell.”

Turlann mentally filed that piece of information. “When Lyta Alexander was here, she worked with our healers helping some of the telepathic veterans of the Shadow War. Apparently, there are delayed effects of their efforts fighting the Enemy, showing up even at this late date.”

Anilia sat up straight. “Well, I wanted to continue helping Ker, and our fellow telepaths. If he feels the best way is to assist Lyta Alexander in her work, maybe it would be good for me to continue her work here. Can you put me in touch with someone so I can volunteer?”

“I am certain I can. Thank you, Sera. It is good of you to care for those who fought against the Shadows. It was not your war.”

“If Lyta and Ker are right, then we telepaths need to join together. So perhaps I am on their side. Perhaps, in a way, it was my war. Perhaps it is all part of the same war.”

Turlann rose, and offered his hand to assist her from her seat. They walked together in companionable silence, back to the IA headquarters building.

 

The following morning Susan headed to her class. Normally she disliked meditation training, but she hoped it would work today. She needed to stop her thoughts from circling around things she needed to do and didn’t know how to, and things she wanted to do but could do nothing about. Just working out what that meant should take up all her class time. The idea that she could learn to clear her mind, and let it drift to a focus point without settling on a problem that needed solved was foreign to her, and yet she knew it was central to Minbari and Ranger training. It was part of who they were, and she needed to learn it. She entered the classroom, bowed to the Minbari teacher, and took her place on one of the raised platforms designated for the students. She went through the mental discipline necessary to clear her mind, but she couldn’t focus because she had a nagging feeling people were watching her. Opening one eye, she looked around, and saw several of the trainees staring at her. Looking ahead, she saw the teacher was similarly bemused by the lack of attention in the class.

“May I ask what is distracting you today?” The Ranger in charge addressed the class in general. Susan thought he wasn’t including her, but he pointed at her directly, and then repeated the question.

She hesitated, and he repeated the question. “I am distracted, I admit. I hoped to gain the insight from this class to address my problems, which are many and varied.”

“The others seem to be focused on you. Perhaps you are the problem?”

Susan held back her temper with some effort. “I don’t think so, with all respect, Sech Lathon. I am not at fault here. Unless the fault lies in my being here at all.”

Lathon was silent for a moment. “Let us ask the class their opinion, Anla’Shok Na. Class, is it your opinion that the presence of Ranger One is disruptive, and will impede you from completing your studies?”

The various species in the class looked at each other with dismay. Finally, one Minbari trainee spoke up, “It is not. We are honored by her presence.”

Susan squirmed in her seat, and said abruptly, “I am just another trainee while in class, Ranger, and I expect you to act as if I am. It is important to me that I learn what you have learned, experience what you experience. I need to be one of you if I am to lead you.”

The class muttered its approval, and there was a smattering of applause from the humans in the class.

Susan expelled an annoyed breath. “You don’t understand.” Hesitating, she finally said, “I don’t understand, and I need to. That’s why I’m here.” To herself, she thought, _if I am going to ask the Anla’Shok to change, I must understand what I am asking; what will be lost, and what could be gained, in the process._

Lathon nodded, and said to the class. “Resume your meditations, class. If Secha Ivanova is to be a Ranger, she must be allowed to continue her studies. She is, as she says, one of us.”

The others returned to their positions, eyes closed. Susan, however, found her eyes stinging with tears. What she was going to ask would change the Rangers irrevocably, and it would be her responsibility, and hers alone. She prayed she was headed in the right direction with them. This was something she could not easily discuss with Lennier, not with his history. Still, she found herself wishing he was there.

 

Lennier’s ship was approaching the final jump to Earth Federation space, and it would be short hop from there to Mars. News of the barely controlled chaos on the planet had reached them, and was causing some dissension on the ship. Ker was moody, and anxious to join Lyta and offer his assistance. Maeve Callahan was also eager to get down on the planet and help. He had been reluctant to include the young Ranger in the landing party, but Susan seemed to trust her and want her along, so he had agreed.

Lennier seemed to be alone in his doubts that they could accomplish anything. He’d contacted Garibaldi, and someone from Edgars Industries would be meeting them at the port. He was taking a minimal number of people; the small flyer with the ship seated four, so the three of them and one other Ranger would be going. He thought another human would be best, and had chosen Jason Walker. He had trained on Mars, which might prove useful. He had impressed upon them that they must strive to remain neutral in the face of the ongoing crisis. That would not be an easy task; the terrorists were broadcasting pictures of crying children and frightened adolescents, and conditions within the school building were deteriorating. They had food and water, as it was a boarding school, but there had been damage to the electrical system which was affecting heating and cooling as well as lighting. The situation could not go on this way for much longer.

Taking a break from the command chair, Lennier had walked to his quarters. He needed to collect his thoughts before they arrived. He had thought about trying to contact Minbar, but he had no idea what he could say, to either Anilia or to Susan. He had been feeling more and more guilty about the promise he had made to Anilia to assist Ker in his mission. The mission had changed, the venue had changed; what had not changed was his uneasiness about his motivation and commitment. He knew it had been both necessary and expedient to get Anilia off Centauri Prime. Her evidence was important to the Alliance, and her safety on her homeworld was not assured. It had comforted her to know that he would stay and help Ker in any way he could. He had kept to himself the fact that his assistance would be limited and short term.

As for Susan…there he had to rein in his emotional response, which, as always, threatened to overwhelm his ability to think logically. He reached his quarters, entered, and sat before the low table set in one corner of the room. Taking the time to set up a ritual meditation, lighting candles, reciting prayers, let him center and calm himself. His hands went through the familiar motions automatically. It was comforting in a way he could never explain to others. As his mind emptied itself of the frustrations of the day, he could feel peace flowing into and through him. The candle flame flickered and then settled to a steady tranquil glow. Now he could let himself look at his feelings and actions without the turmoil and ache that thoughts of his lover brought forth recently.

He had been shocked at her rescue attempt on Centauri Prime: shocked that she would defy her superiors, shocked that she would abdicate her leadership of the Rangers, shocked that she would place herself in physical danger. Deep down, he could not quite believe she had done all that for him. She had asked if he would not have done the same. He had replied that he would; but truth be told, he was not certain of that. He had been trained early and well in the paths of obedience, and though he was no longer a naïve Temple acolyte, he was still Minbari, and accustomed to following the orders and directions of those acknowledged as his superiors. Years and experience had tempered that response, yet it remained an integral part of him.

That was part of what puzzled him. She had been trained in similar fashion. The human military had its codes and traditions of service and obedience; not as strict or all-encompassing as the Minbari religious and Warrior caste, but the roots were the same. Was it that her feelings for him were that strong? Was that a good thing? Then there was her Anla'Shok training. The training was designed to allow its members to use their initiative, under the aegis of training them first extensively in the beliefs and goals of the Anla'Shok, so decisions made by individuals were those that should be made, that would be made by any other Anla'Shok. It was a merger of the ideas of personal and collective responsibility, an attempt to combine the best of human and Minbari traditional strengths. When the Anla'Shok had broadened to include other species, the training had of necessity changed too. Now the Anla’Shok was being asked to change again, and Susan would be at the forefront of that change. Although he trusted her leadership, he found her recent actions unsettling. He found his faith in her not as secure as it was, and that thought disrupted his hard-fought for peace of mind.

The door chime rang to complete his coming out of meditation. He sighed, and rose to his feet to greet his visitor. "Enter," he said, and the door opened to reveal Ranger Callahan.

"May I come in, Sech?" she asked, her tone deferential, but self-confident.

"Certainly. How may I be of service to you? I'm afraid we have not had much time to speak with one another, but I wanted to thank you for your part in my delivery from captivity."

"You are most welcome, but I had little to do with the actual mission. I followed Anla'Shok Na, as I always will."

Lennier was struck by her loyalty, and wondered if that was why Susan had chosen her for this mission. Then a second, disturbing thought hit him. Maybe she wanted someone of her own choosing on this mission. She had been quite upset that he was fulfilling his promise to Anilia; did she think he had some other motive in doing so?

"Sech Lennier, I wanted to ask you something."

Lennier gestured Maeve to a seat at the small round table in the corner of the room. Quarters were small on these White Stars, even for the command staff. His room had a tilted bed, a table and two chairs, and the low meditation table. It all felt quite familiar to Lennier who had spent the last few years mainly aboard ship. He sat down and faced Maeve expectantly. She was looking down at the tabletop and her face was hidden behind a curtain of wavy black hair. When she did not immediately speak, he felt compelled to put her at her ease. "We should arrive at Mars tomorrow. The others should be back on Minbar by now, or soon." He watched her fidget a bit in her seat, and went on, "How long has it been since you took your vows?"

"Not long. Centauri Prime was my first mission. I was assigned to Anla'Shok Na's ship, and voted to go with her when she defied Entil'zha and the President."

Lennier suppressed a look of pain, and said, "I see. She values your dedication, I know."

"That's just it!" Maeve burst out, her blue eyes blazing. "I feel more loyalty to her than to them…is it possible to remain an Anla'Shok with this attitude? Who is the One that I have to live and die for? Valen himself, or some modern equivalent? Something doesn’t feel right about this." She grew more agitated as she continued. "There was a vote, and many of us voted to accompany Anla'Shok Na, but many voted to stay. It was unlike anything I'd experienced in EarthForce, except maybe volunteering for a dangerous or suicidal mission. This wasn't going to be that bad, it seemed to me…” Her voice trailed off, and she started to apologize. “I am sorry for burdening you with this. It has been preying on my mind, and I know none of the Rangers aboard well enough to talk to. None of them made the decision I did, in any case, as they all came with Entil’zha. You know Anla’Shok Na well, it’s obvious, and I had hoped you could help me understand what was happening. Was she right to go? What will happen when she gets back? Are the Rangers going to survive this?”

Lennier sat in silence for a moment. He had no idea what to say to the confused young woman, and her fears echoed his own deep concerns. Finally, he spoke, “In the end, we put our trust in others to guide us when our path seems uncertain. You put your trust in Susan Ivanova, and that is a wise course, I assure you.”

Maeve smiled briefly, and nodded in agreement. “It will have to do, I suppose. Thank you, Sech Lennier, for hearing me out.” She rose, and bowed to him.

He sat, lost in thought for a moment, then called out. “If you need to talk again, please do not hesitate to ask.”

She turned at the door, and said, “That’s great. I was so worried. The last thing I would ever want to do is to betray the Anla’Shok.”

He sat in stricken silence, her final words echoing in his ears, for a long time afterwards.

 

The flyer landed at the main spaceport outside Burroughs, and the small group left it docked in the long term docking bay, as they were uncertain how long they would be staying. The four of them walked down towards the exit to the main terminal, each lost in their own thoughts. Jason and Maeve walked behind Lennier, as if they were guarding him, which made him supremely uncomfortable. He had asked Ker to walk with him, but he had shrugged off the offer, and lingered behind the two Rangers, who were careful to keep an eye on him. It was obvious Ker had never been off-planet, he closely observed everything, although he tried to hide his interest behind a wall of indifference. Lennier was the first to spot the blinking guide-bot floating in midair, with the Edgars Industries logo flashing in blue lights. He gestured to the others, and followed the ‘bot into the terminal and towards the exits. As they neared the glass doors, he heard his name called.

“Lennier! Hey, over here!”

Looking down the wall of doors, he spotted a familiar face. “Mr. Allan?”

Zack ran up to him, and stuck out his hand, “Hey, I think we can skip to Zack, don’t you?” He shook Lennier’s hand enthusiastically, and added, “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? The Chief sent me to pick you guys up and bring you straight to him and Lyta.” His voice dropped, and became serious, “So much has been going on, and none of it good. We’re hoping you or the others might have some ideas on what to do. Those poor kids…” His voice trailed off, as he escorted them out a door, and into a private groundcar, a luxury on Mars, emblazoned with the EI logo.

“What is the situation then,” Lennier paused, then politely added, “Zack?”

“Well, you’ve probably heard the basics on the way here. But the situation is a stalemate, a real Mexican standoff. Nobody knows what to do. We’ve got some ideas, but the Marscops have shot them all down. PsiCorps is going ballistic, but no one knows what they’re really thinking, or planning. Meanwhile it just gets worse and worse for the kids in the school.” He fell into silence, as they sped through the empty streets.

“Where is everybody?” The question came from Ker. “Are the streets always this uncrowded?”

Zack shook his head. “Martial law. There were so many protests and counter-protests, normals versus teeps, and it started getting violent. There’s a curfew, and limits on the size of groups allowed on the streets. It’s helped, but bottling people up is adding to the tension.”

He stopped, to indicate to the driver that they should go to the back entrance to the building. When the car stopped, he got out, and carefully looked around the parking area. It was isolated and guarded by both electronic surveillance, and a live guard at the gate, but he was not going to take any chances, not after what had happened at the studio. Privately he thought the electronics were probably more reliable when it came to teeps.

After they entered the building, he took them straight to the lift. At the fifth floor, they exited, and he walked down a carpeted hallway to a paneled wooden door. Zack hit the door chime, placed his thumb against the keypad for identification, then said his name aloud for voice authentification. The door opened, and he indicated they should go in.

Lennier had just entered the doorway, when he was slapped on the back. Instinctively he reached back, grabbed the arm of his assailant and twisted it around.

“Ow!” said a familiar voice. “Let go, willya? You Minbari never watch your strength around us mortal men.”

He hastily let go, and apologized profusely to Garibaldi, who waved it off, although he rubbed his forearm ruefully. “When will I learn? So how are you, Lennier? How’s Susan doing?”

“She is well, Mr. Garibaldi. It is very good to see you again, even under these circumstances.”

“You want to try Michael?” Garibaldi looked beyond Lennier, and said, “So who are your playmates?”

Pointing to each person in turn, Lennier introduced the others, at the same time wishing the humans would stop asking him to use their first names. He’d never gotten over the feeling that it was disrespectful. Still, it seemed important to them; apparently he’d crossed some threshold of friendship unbenownst to him. “Maeve Callahan and Jason Walker are Rangers, as you see. This is Ker Turro; he is from Centauri Prime, and is anxious to locate Lyta Alexander.”

“Is he? Well, here she is.” Lyta was standing in the doorway to the bedroom.

Zack hurried over, and said, “Are you feeling okay? It’s only been a few days; the doc said you should take it easy.”

She took a moment to smile at Zack, then addressed Ker. “I remember you. Things didn’t go well on Centauri Prime, did they?”

Ker bowed to Lyta, and came over to her. “They did not. Have you heard much news from there?”

“Not really. It’s just that everything seems to be going wrong. What happened?” She stiffly walked over to the couch and sat down. “Tell me,” she said, indicating that Ker should sit next to her.

Garibaldi took Lennier into the kitchen area, announcing they would prepare some refreshments. While they were apart from the others, he took the opportunity to quiz Lennier. “So what do they think? John and Delenn, I mean? I gather Lyta talked to them, but I’ll bet she didn’t tell them everything.  
“I do not believe they were aware of all of her plans, no. I have not had the opportunity to speak with Delenn, but I have spoken with both John and Susan. They are very concerned that this situation does not escalate further than it has. The violence has spread to many worlds now, and it is difficult containing it with the situation here so unstable. Many of the telepaths on those worlds are looking to Ms. Alexander for guidance.”

“Well, the situation here is impossible. The teeps holding the kids won’t talk to the government, PsiCorps wants to go in and take them out, the government is terrified of the repercussions if there’s a slaughter. No one wants to take responsibility for making the final decision, and conditions in there just get worse the longer they wait.”

Lennier looked thoughtful, “And what is Ms. Alexander’s suggestion? It seems she is at the center of the matter.”

Garibaldi sighed, “She wants to try and talk to them, of course. Neither the government or PsiCorps will even consider it…they’re half convinced she’s behind the whole thing.”

Lennier cocked his head, “Is she?”

“Honestly?” said Garibaldi wearily, “I don’t know. She’s capable of it, sure. She seemed totally surprised and shocked when the news came, but with teeps you can’t tell. She could have influenced me to see it that way.” He briefly filled Lennier in on what had happened at the studio.

“And what is your role in this? Why are you helping her? Why have you been helping her all this time?” Lennier tried to keep his voice neutral. It was something they all wondered, but he was certain the answer he received would not be complete.

“I just wanted to help her out. She was in a jam, and needed somewhere to park the money she got from G’Kar, and keep it growing for her project. She couldn’t handle it from where she was, and she was at the point where she didn’t trust many people.”

“She trusted you?”

“I guess.” Garibaldi sounded defensive now. “She knew I didn’t like the Corps, and this was a fairly benign way to get back at them; challenging their authority over human telepaths by giving the teeps an option, a homeworld to go to. Money management is part of what I do now anyway. It wasn’t hard to get some of the bean-counters at Edgars to get her set up with a portfolio, and send her cash when she and G’Kar needed it. Nothing wrong with that.”

“I never said there was. It is understandable, but is it not a problem now?”

“A public relations nightmare is what it is! Lise is going to skin me when she gets back from Earth. She’s only been gone two weeks, family matter…who would have thought it could all go wrong so quickly?” Garibaldi set out for the living area with two pitchers filled with juice and water.

Picking up the tray Garibaldi had filled with food and glasses, Lennier followed. “Who indeed?”

 

Ker and Lyta were still deep in conversation, some verbal, some obviously mind-to-mind. It was disconcerting when they would suddenly break off speaking and stare at each other intently. One would nod, then the conversation would pick up again, at a totally different point. Zack was chatting with Maeve and Jason, trying to put them at ease and succeeding. After they had all gathered around the low table in front of the couch and served themselves, Garibaldi stated what was on all their minds.

“What are we going to do next?” He was looking at Lyta as he spoke, his mouth half full of sandwich.

She pursed her lips, and answered, “You know what has to happen. I have to talk to them, get them to release the hostages. But I need some guarantees, and I need access! Until we get that, it can only get worse. And the longer we wait, the more likely it is that PsiCorp will intervene. They won’t want the children hurt, but it is extremely damaging to their reputation to allow blips to challenge them like this. If they go in, it will be a disaster.”

“It’s already a disaster,” broke in Zack. “They’ve killed some of the teachers already…the government can’t give them immunity now! Somebody’s got to go in and break this up, and like it or not, a lot of people will probably get killed.”

Garibaldi said, his voice hard, “I’ve talked to the Council over and over. They’re petrified of making the wrong move; they’re under pressure from the Corps, the media, the general populace, EarthGov. They don’t trust you, and they don’t really trust me anymore, and they are not going to do a damn thing!”

Maeve spoke up then, “Can we get her in? Can the Rangers help?”

Lennier looked over at her, and speculated, “Possibly. If Ms. Alexander is willing to take the risk that she will become another hostage…there must be a way.”

“The police have the whole place cordoned off! No one can sneak in there!” expostulated Zack.

“We walk in the dark places, where no one else will go. I am familiar with that area.” recited Jason, then resumed his silent observation.

Lyta cleared her throat, “I still have some contacts in the telepathic underground here. No, not this group!” She said hurriedly as they all stared at her. “From long ago, when I was on the run from PsiCorp here. They might know a way in. They rather specialized in finding secret ways in and out of PsiCorp facilities.”

Ker looked at her with open admiration, “It is a risk, Lyta. You do not know these people. They must be desperate, or they would not threaten children.”

“I may not know them, but I know their desperation. I can talk to them; I know I can. Besides, isn’t it worth the chance? If we don’t intervene, the government will try to wait them out, they will grow more desperate and start killing people, and probably sooner rather than later, PsiCorp will go in. It will be a bloodbath, in any of those scenarios. Please help me get in there, and at least try to settle this peacefully.” She looked around the room, pleading with her voice alone, resisting the impulse to intervene mentally.

Lennier looked at Garibaldi, “What is your opinion?”

“What’s yours? Do you speak for the Alliance?”

Silent for a moment, Lennier answered slowly, “I speak only for myself. I was sent to gather information and observe. If it were up to me alone, I would assist Ms. Alexander. It seems there are few options, and this one seems to offer the most hope, although it is slight.”

“I agree with Lennier,” Ker said quickly.

The two Rangers looked at each other, and both nodded in agreement. Maeve spoke, “It’s this plan or do nothing.”

Garibaldi was silent, sitting on the edge of his chair, rolling a glass back and forth between his palms. Zack was standing behind him, open-mouthed in dismay. “You all are crazy! We can’t go into the middle of a hostage situation just like that! They’ll either kill us too, or take us hostage and add to the problem. C’mon, Chief! This goes against everything you ever taught me about this sort of thing!”

Garibaldi looked straight ahead, focusing on Lyta. “Your responsibility, your decision. I say go ahead.”

She nodded decisively and said, “Get me a secure line. I’ll try to contact my associates.”

 

They agreed to keep the group small and not to contact the local Rangers, as the fewer who knew of their plans, the better. Lyta was going, of course. Lennier had insisted that he go to represent the Alliance. He could reassure the telepaths that the homeworld concept at least was supported by the IA. Maeve and Jason were coming, as Rangers were always useful, and Zack insisted he accompany them. The only problem was Ker, who desperately wanted to go, but really had no role, and being Centauri, would stick out. Lennier was torn; his primary mission was to assist Ker in aiding telepaths, and to protect him. How could he do that without including him in the mission? He had hoped his duty would be done once he got Ker to Lyta, and he could leave the telepath to pursue his goals. As he wavered back and forth, Lyta finally said, “Another telepath might be useful! Let him come along—we need to get going.”

Garibaldi offered to outfit them, but Lyta pointed out that weapons would be fairly useless against telepaths. So they went unarmed, and with a minimum of supplies; some water, lights, some medical supplies. They left the building after dark, and met one of Lyta’s contacts in the parking area behind the building. He led them to a nearby building thru back alleys, inside and down steps to a sub-basement, then through ventilation tunnels for what seemed like miles. They had to dodge the occasional guard and maintenance worker, but the tunnels were empty for the main part. After a solid hour of walking, he stopped, and pointed to a side door in the tunnel. “You go through there, up two sets of steps, left, then down a corridor about half a mile. There’s a door on the right, marked with the omega sign. That’s the entrance to the basement of the school. We don’t know where they are in the building, and they will be on the alert for scans…”

“They won’t be able to tell they’re being scanned.” Lyta said definitely. “I’ll find them.”

He nodded, and went on, “You can get out this way, of course, and we’ll have someone watching the exit in case you do, but hopefully, you’ll come out the front door, with the children. Good luck.” Then he disappeared into the shadows.

Zack took point, with Lyta behind him, followed by Ker and Lennier, and the Rangers taking up the rear. Maeve lingered behind, and whispered to Jason, “Do you think this is going to work?”

Jason said softly, “No. But it might. In any case, it will be a death with meaning and honor. What more could we want?”

As they approached the door, Lyta touched Zack’s arm. “I need to find them before we go in. Wait here for a moment.” She went up to the door, and laid her bare hands flat against the cold steel surface. Closing her eyes, she went completely still for several minutes. Finally, she opened her eyes, and said, “Get me some light over here.” Taking a datapad from her pack, she quickly sketched out a plan of the building. “The kids are in these back rooms. No guards inside I think, though it’s hard to be sure. The frightened thoughts could be coming from the captors as well as the captives at this point. There are about a dozen adult telepaths scattered throughout the building, one at each entrance...” She quickly indicated where those were. “Then there’s a group of four or five of them in one central room. They’re probably the leaders, trying to decide their next move. That’s where I need to go. Lennier, you’re with me, and Ker too, I suppose. Zack, could you and the others go in first, and take out the guards at the entrances? I’ll block your thoughts so you can sneak up on them. Get close, and slap these on them.” She handed each of them a strip of round tabs. “Garibaldi got them for me. Peel the tab off the paper, place it directly on bare skin, and they’ll get a mega-dose of sleepers instantaneously. Once their telepathic powers are neutralized, I expect you can deal with them.” The three nodded and took the tabs. Lyta continued, “Meet us outside the central room. Don’t be too long. You don’t want to miss the fun.” She smiled, mostly at Zack, who responded faintly. She took each one’s hands, and stared into their eyes for a moment, installing the blocks. She lingered a bit over Zack, saying reassuringly, “The block will fade in a few hours. Trust me.” Then she turned to the others, and said, “Let’s go.”

 

Lyta led them through the deserted halls towards the central room, an auditorium of some sort or perhaps a cafeteria. Lennier was trying to prepare himself mentally for what would undoubtedly be a challenging interview. He kept a close eye on Ker, but the Centauri showed no desire to stray far from Lyta. Occasionally she would flatten against a wall, and they would hear nearby voices, but they saw no one. When they reached the large room, they saw it had one wall entirely of glass, and they would have to walk by it to reach the door. They lingered in the hallway for ten minutes, then fifteen, then twenty, hoping to see their comrades returning. Lennier tried to raise the Rangers on their links, but they weren’t working for some reason.

Lennier jumped at the touch on his sleeve. It was Maeve. “I took out three of them. They are restrained and won’t be bothering us.” He reached forward, and touched Lyta, indicating that Maeve was back. Looking down the hallway, past the wall of glass, he could see Zack and then Jason, appear from the shadows and stop by the door. Each held up three fingers. That was nine of the terrorists down. They could see two people clearly in the lit enclosure, and shadows indicated there were more inside. They still had no idea where the explosives were located, what would trigger them, or even if there were any. While Lennier was still considering how to obtain that vital information, he heard a ringing announcement inside his head…

“I am Here.”

He looked to see that Lyta had walked into the corridor, and turned to face the glass wall. Holding his hand to his head to quell the rising headache, he notice Ker doing the same thing. Zack and the others seemed unaffected, and he reasoned it must the effect of the blocks Lyta had installed. The telepaths inside had faced Lyta, and he assumed they were talking telepathically.

Lyta turned back to them, and gestured them forward. “They’re willing to negotiate. Step forward, slowly. I’ve told them who you two are.”

Lennier whispered to Maeve, “Stay out of sight and see if you can remain undetected. Once we get inside, locate the children. See if you can neutralize any guards, and get them ready to leave.” He then walked steadily towards Lyta, with Ker close behind him. The telepaths inside nodded, and they three approached the door. They didn’t even glance at Lyta, but Lennier made a surreptitious hand gesture to Jason, indicating he should wait outside. Jason tried to restrain Zack, but he shook him off, and followed them into the room.

“You said three. How many did you bring?”

“He is just a guard. I had thought to leave him outside the door to wait while we talked. I suppose he did not understand the instructions. Who are you?” She addressed a tall, thin human in grey slacks, a white shirt, and loose tan jacket.

“Call me Thomas. That’s all you need to know. No scanning, Lyta. I know you’d like to know where the explosives are laid, but that information is privileged at this point.”

He indicated they should stop in the center of the room, and three others, two men and a woman, came up behind him. The woman and one of the men were armed with hand-held PPGs. The other man shifted nervously from foot to foot, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.

“Thomas, you must have realized that this siege is only harming our cause. I want to help you, but you have to let the children go. Keep us, and we’ll see what we can work out.”

“Too late for that,” the nervous man broke in, “They’ll never let us go; there’s blood between us. And even if you could swing exile for us with the Council, PsiCorps will hunt us down and kill us anyway.”

Lyta turned to look at the man, “That may be true. What other choices have you left us?”

Thomas pointed at Lennier and Ker, “What are the aliens doing here?”

Lyta answered, “Ker is a fellow telepath, and led the rebellion on Centauri Prime. This movement is designed to offer safe haven to all telepaths, regardless of species. Did you not understand that?” She continued, “Lennier is a representative of the Insterstellar Alliance. They are working to arrange safe passage for human and other telepaths to the new homeworld. He is here to assure you of their support.” She directed her plea to Thomas, who seemed to be the leader, “These children are some of who we are trying to save. Don’t you see? By threatening them, you are fracturing the alliances I have been striving all this time to build!”

The woman had lowered her weapon momentarily, and Lennier tensed, wondering if he could disarm her. Instantly she raised it again, and pointed it directly at him. “Don’t try it, Minbari.”

Lyta interjected, “We are only here to talk, although it is a bit distracting having guns pointed at us while we do. Now, do you have any suggestions as to how we can resolve this mess?”

Thomas gave her a grim smile, “Not really. Perhaps we could start letting the younger children go. It would be easier to deal with only the older ones, and it would be a gesture of good faith. What we want is a guarantee, that human telepaths will be given a choice to leave, with free passage and no retribution from PsiCorps. The children are another matter. Maura here fled PsiCorp three years ago, leaving behind her six month old baby. She’s been looking for him ever since, trying to get him free. What can you do for her? James is wanted on a murder charge; he killed a man in a bar fight. The man was armed, and intended to kill James, but no one believes he saw it in his victim’s mind. Will felons or those wanted for crimes be allowed to go? You yourself have outstanding warrants on Earth, don’t you? You should sympathize. Ned here was misdiagnosed as schizophrenic when he started hearing voices when he was ten. He’s been in and out of mental institutions for years, and the drugs they’ve given him have fractured his mind. Is he welcome on Telepath World?” Thomas was still smiling, but it was not a pleasant sight.

Lyta swallowed hard. “These are all matters we’re negotiating. Some we can work out; others may take a while. The choice, at least for adults, is non-negotiable, and I think they’re on board. Safe passage we have, and I believe it can be cheap if not free. I’ve started a foundation with Edgars Industries that will help subsidize fares.”

Maura broke in, “What about our children? Can we take them? Will PsiCorps give them up?”

Lyta shook her head, “I don’t know. Parents will have more say in what happens to them. We haven’t gotten that far yet. Some parents want them to go to PsiCorp; they give them up voluntarily…”

“Others don’t! Or they wouldn’t, if they knew what went on in the schools and academies. You know, don’t you? You were raised there, by them, trained, indoctrinated, taught to love the Corps above all…” Maura’s voice trailed off.

Lyta nodded, and said softly, “Yes, I was. I do understand, but I have to start somewhere! I had to get the safe haven established first. It’s taken years to locate a suitable world, and get everything in place; the work building the colony, the money needed, the connections on all the world with telepaths. It will come, Maura. It’s started, and it’s going to happen, I can feel it. We’re so close.”

Thomas was nodding cautiously, and Maura had lowered her gun again. Lennier took a chance and looked over at Zack. He was watching James, and nodded slightly to Lennier.

Lyta stiffened and looked over at Zack, mouthing the word rather than saying it aloud, “No!”

Zack launched himself at James, taking him down in one swift motion, and holding onto his gun arm. He banged the telepath’s arm against the concrete floor repeatedly until the gun skittered away, then put him in a chokehold while he struggled to get a tab on him.

Lennier shouted to Ker, “Get the other one!” while he attached Maura. She managed to get her gun raised, but it was swiftly knocked out of her hand, and she collapsed to the floor from a chop to her neck. Lennier knelt to check her pulse, then took a tab from Zack and applied it.

Lyta held Thomas at gunpoint. He waited with his hands raised, and Zack used the last of the tabs on him.

Zack stared at Lyta, “Where did that come from?” pointing at the gun in her hand.

“I brought it along. It seemed prudent,” she answered.

“Why didn’t they ‘see’ that you had it on you?” he asked, puzzled.

“No one looks into my mind when I don’t wish it, Zack. It’s a stronger version of what I did for you and the others.” She handed him the gun, and said, “You take it. I don’t think Thomas is going to fight us anymore. We need to disarm the explosives, and get those children out of here. I’ll do my best to get you all leniency, as long as no one else is hurt.”

Lennier looked up from where he was using power cords to tie up Maura and James. “Where is Ker?”

Thomas looked grim, “More to the point, where’s Ned? He’s our explosives man—he knows where they are, and how to set them off.”

Just then a loud explosion rocked the building. “That came from the direction of the dorms, where the kids are being held!” Thomas shouted.

“Lead the way!” Lyta said to him, and they ran from the room, leaving only the two bound telepaths behind them.

As they pelted down the hallway, Zack asked Thomas, “Why in the world did you entrust the crazy guy with the explosives?”

“He’s the one who knew how to set them up. I kept him close to me, under my control, until you people showed up, that is!”

When they reached the dorm area, they saw Maeve at the door, holding back a group of children.

“Where’s Walker?” Lennier demanded.

“He’s taking a group down to the tunnel exit. Lyta’s people have been meeting them as we bring them down and taking them on, away from here. We’re mixing them up, young and old. The older ones help with the babies. He should be back any minute,” she answered. “We thought it would be better than letting them out to wander on their own.”

Lennier nodded, “Good thinking. Could you tell where that explosion came from?”

“Not really,” she answered, “but it was too damn close. What’s going on?”

He responded, “We have them all accounted for but one. Unfortunately, he is quite unstable, and knows where the devices are hidden. Ker went after him, I believe. I lost track of him in the fight.”

She stared at him and said, “I thought he was your responsibility.”

Lyta broke in, “Can we speed this up? Thomas, are there devices at the main doors? Is it safe to take them out that way?”

“No, it’s not safe. All the exits were wired, and who knows which one Ned headed towards? Can we get in touch with this Ker?” Thomas replied.

Lennier shook his head, “Our links don’t work in here. PsiCorps must have some sort of damping technology. I don’t suppose they need the com systems as we do.”

Then the world exploded around them. A flash of light so bright it nearly blinded them was followed by a series of ear-splitting roars, and the ominous sound of flames crackling in the distance. A series of hollow booms and the crashing of shattered glass followed. They all paused for a moment, caught in the realization that they were likely to be cut off by the flames rushing towards them down the hallways to the intersection where they stood. Lyta and Thomas dove into the dorm room, while Maeve caught Lennier by the arm and drug him inside. Zack paused, his hand shading his eyes from the bright flames, “I think I see Ker!” he shouted, and dove down one hallway into smoke and fire.

“Zack!”

Lennier thought it was Lyta that screamed, but couldn’t be sure. He strained his eyes, and finally saw two figures staggering towards the door, holding onto each other as if they were trying to do a strange dance. He lunged towards them, grabbed one outstretched hand, and pulled them inside. Maeve slammed the door shut behind them as the flames roared past outside.

“Ker, are you all right?” Lennier examined his charge carefully, but saw no more than surface burns. Ker was coughing too hard to answer at first, but managed to nod. Maeve was holding him up from the floor, allowing him to breath more easily. Lyta was checking out Zack, who seemed to have escaped with little more than a scorched uniform, and reddened skin on his hands and arms.

“What happened to Ned?” Thomas knelt by Ker and asked urgently. “Did he set off the explosives?”

Ker nodded again, and Thomas sunk his face in his hands. Then Ker said hoarsely, “Not the first one. He was as shocked by that as I was. Someone else must have triggered it. Then he just went crazy, and shouted that it was time. Time for what? I asked him. Time to die, he said. He pulled up his shirt, and there was tape holding some sort of comlink panel strapped to his chest. He told me to run, and pushed a series of buttons. Then everything went up at once; fires, explosions all around us. He was laughing, laughing…and then he pushed one more button, and he…he just disappeared.”

Lennier asked gently, “How do you mean, he disappeared?”

Ker voice shook, “He flew into a million pieces, exploded in front of me. There was blood, other things, everywhere.” He closed his eyes and leaned back against Maeve.

Lennier stood up slowly, mentally saying a prayer for the telepath who found his own way out of their dilemma. Looking around the room, he saw scores of frightened eyes, boys, girls, young men and women, clutching each other and looking at them with fear. He went to the door and touched it; it was red hot. Returning to Maeve he asked, “Is there another way out of here?”

“This is a central room of three connecting dormitories. One door out into the main hallway, doors on two walls to the bathrooms that lead into the next dorm. There’s an emergency exit out the back, but it’s jammed. We couldn’t get it opened.”

“What about windows?” Lennier scanned the room, but couldn’t see any more outlets.

“None. There are vents in the ceiling, but I have no idea where they lead, or whether we could get the kids out that way. There are sprinklers, by the way, but they don’t seem to be working. Perhaps one of the explosions disrupted the water supply.”

“The cops will storm the place now, Lennier. They’ll be on their way,” Zack said as he approached Maeve and the Minbari.

“I don’t know that we can wait,” said Lennier grimly. “Look.” He pointed to the wall next to the thick door to the hallway. Flames were licking up under the door, and starting to climb the walls. “Pull everything away from the wall!” he shouted. “Beds, clothes, anything flammable!”

Zack pulled out a tube and flicked it open to reveal a long sharp blade. He began hacking at the carpet, and pulling it away from the wall, revealing the concrete floor beneath.

“Where did that come from?” Lyta demanded.

“I brought it along,” He smiled up at her. “It seemed prudent.” She smiled back and began to tear at the carpet as he cut new strips.

Ker was moving the children to the back wall, which remained cool, if unbroachable. He began to work at the emergency exit, using any tool that came to hand to bang and dent it. He was joined in the effort by some of the older children.

“It’s not working,” Maeve said to Lennier. “Look!” She pointed to where the wall was beginning to smoke and blacken with the force of the flames behind it, struggling to break through. She coughed, and said, “I’ll try the other rooms.” She raced out, and they heard the sound of tinkling glass. She came back in, and said, “There’s a small window in the bathroom; the smaller ones can fit through it. But the dorm room behind is on fire.” Thomas had emulated her, and came in from the other bathroom, with smoking clothes. “No way out that way; the bathroom’s full of smoke and flames are coming in under the door to the room beyond.”

“Maeve,” Lennier said, “Start taking the little ones out the bathroom window. Clear out as much glass as you can. Is it a long drop to the ground?”

“No, we’re ground floor. If they fall right, they should be able to get up and run. I saw some people milling about at a distance. If they see a kid drop, they should come in closer, and help them get away.”

“Go then, and Valen go with you.”

Maeve bowed slightly, and went to the back, to choose who would go first.

 

The other adults gathered in a knot at the front of the room. There wasn’t much choice, except to get out as many as they could through the small window in the bathroom, keep the flames out as best they could, and hope rescue arrived before it was too late. Ker and Lyta went to the back to comfort the children as best they could, sending wave after wave of confident thoughts to them. Lennier, Zack, and Thomas kept working at moving flammable material away from the wall, and stopping to smother any flames that broke through. They could still hear muted explosions from outside, and didn’t know whether that was rescuers breaking through, more devices going off, or flammable materials catching fire. Zack was smacking flames by the door with a bedspread, when suddenly the door blew inwards. It caught him in the mid-section, as he turned sideways to raise the blanket for another smack at the flames, and blew him ten feet backwards. He landed against a bedframe with a sickening crunch, and flames shot into the room. Pieces of the door covered him, and the smoldering wood caught fire, and his clothes began to smoke. Lennier raced back and threw the chunks of wood off of him, and patted his clothes until they flames were gone. He could see bone splinters poking through his blood-soaked trousers; it looked as if his hip was crushed. A little further away, Lennier saw that Thomas was lying on the floor unconscous. He had apparently been hit by some of the flying debris as well. Looking back at the fire, Lennier suddenly had a desperate idea. Lyta was standing beside him, staring horrified at Zack, when he took her by the arm and shook her hard.

“Lyta!” He shook her again until she turned slowly and focused on him. “Lyta, Garibaldi told me you can project flames. Can you pull them to you?”

Abject terror filled her eyes, and he could see she wanted to say no. Looking down at Zack, unconscious and horribly wounded, then back at the screaming children, she finally nodded, saying slowly, “Maybe.”

Maeve appeared at the doorway to the bathroom and gestured to Ker to send along another set of smaller children. Ker pointed at the doorway and three of them started towards Maeve, who was waving at them to hurry. An errant tongue of flame from the front of the room licked towards one small boy, and he started, then panicked and ran. The flame caught at his clothes, and as the adults watched helplessly he flared up like a torch. He careened into another child, and another. The little ones all caught fire and burned before their eyes. They could see the first boy’s mouth open in a silent scream as his flesh melted.

Lennier looked at Lyta again, then turned his head away in shame; he knew what he was asking. Ker stared at them both, his eyes wet with tears. Lyta nodded once more, and walked to the front of the room, just in front of the flames, putting herself between the fire and the others.

 _Just like Byron_ , she thought. _I will die as he did, in fire, in flame_. She reached one hand towards the flames, and her eyes started to glow.

Zack moaned, and opened his eyes to see Lyta outlined in light, fire streaming towards her. “No!” he screamed. “Lyta, don’t!”

Lyta turned and smiled at him, her hair afire, redder than it had ever been, turning to black at the tips. She started to waver, then spoke to Lennier and Ker, “I can’t control it. I’m not strong enough; it’s too big, too much for me to handle!”

Lennier stepped forward, and took her hand, twining his forearm around hers. “Take from me what strength you can.”

Ker stepped up to the other side, and did the same, “I came to help you save our people. I offer this freely.”

Lyta turned back around, gripping their hands tightly, and the fire started to stream into her again. Her body glowed with it, smoked and steamed and bubbled as she screamed over and over again. Flames rushed in from the hallway, from everywhere in the building, like the wind of a fierce storm, sounding like a train rushing through a tunnel. The noise and light hit them like a blow, but Lyta absorbed the force and heat, and the Minbari and the Centauri held on. Lyta was drawing on them, sucking their strength, but they found more from somewhere deep inside, and clasped her hands tighter than before. Finally the flames grew less, and smaller, and Lyta started to slump. Lennier caught her, but not before Ker screamed as one last flame rushed in, through Lyta, and into his body. He fell to the floor, as Lennier lowered Lyta down beside him.

Maeve had watched in shock as Lyta consumed the flame before it could consume them.

She stood unmoving, as Zack pulled himself painfully towards Lyta. He and Lennier leaned over Lyta’s unmoving form, straining towards her motionless form as if trying to hear something. Finally, she heard noises from behind her. Someone was enlarging the window in the bath with axes and small detonation caps. The emergency exit door at the back of the room crumpled, and was yanked outward. The light of a new dawn streamed in, illuminating both the living and the dead.

 

Garibaldi heard the com chirrup, and hastened to answer it. He was expecting Lise back at any moment, and he sincerely hoped this was her. After the last few days, he discovered he wanted her back more than he had ever thought he could. When he accepted the call, he saw it was John Sheridan. _Oh no_ , he thought, _another explanation, just what I need_. Still he owed them that much; at least it wasn’t Susan this time. He hadn’t been able to tell her much about Lennier’s state when she’d called, quietly frantic after speaking to him. The Minbari hadn’t spoken much to anyone since the fire, but his eyes were darkened and something moved behind them that Garibaldi didn’t understand. At least he and the Rangers were on their way home; perhaps he could find some peace there.

“Hello, John,” he said to the screen. “What can I do for you? You got the report I sent on, didn’t you?”

“I did, Michael. I just wondered what you didn’t put in the report.”

“I’d ask what makes you think I left anything out, but considering our history, that would be a waste of time, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, it would. What happened out there? Does anyone have the full story?”

“I don’t think we’ll ever find out. It was too chaotic, and people were scattered all over the building. It was crazy in there.”

“So, all the rogues were accounted for?”

“They all died, except for that one, Thomas, who was with our group. He’ll be going on trial soon. I expect they’ll wipe him. People want some kind of justice for the deaths.”

“Yes, I suppose they will. What about what Lennier and Zack reported; that the first explosion wasn’t due to the rogues?”

“Well, the teep that said it is dead, and he said it to Ker who is also dead. And it was a pretty self-serving statement. Still, I wouldn’t drop down dead of surprise if it turned out PsiCorps or even the cops tried to bust in during the negotiations. It’s not like they were sanctioned, anyway.”

“What about the other rogues? Did they die in the fire, like the report says?”

Garibaldi laughed, “You still know how to pick out the weak points, don’t you? According to my sources downtown, some of the bodies showed no sign of any burning. Some of them showed no obvious signs of death…like they were killed, oh, I don’t know, psychically maybe? PsiCorps was on the spot, and were some of the first people in the building once the fire died down.”

John shook his head. “Not the way they should have gone, but it’s hard to blame the Corps this time. They certainly had provocation.”

Garibaldi said grimly, “Some of the rogues were tied up and pacified with sleepers. I don’t hold with that.”

John stared, and replied, “I don’t either, but I don’t see what we can do about it now.”

“Probably nothing.”

“How’s Zack doing?”

“He’ll recover, physically at least. Mentally I don’t know. He’s pretty shook up by the whole thing. He’ll get everything he needs, don’t worry.”

John smiled, “That was never a concern.”

The screen flashed a signal, _Call Waiting_ , and Garibaldi rejoiced inwardly. It was probably Lise. “Hey John, I gotta go. Lise is on the other line. Probably wants me to pick her up at the port. She’s just back from Earth, missed the whole thing.”

“Lucky her. Lucky you. You run along. We can talk later. Lennier will be back in a day or so, and I’ll get some more information from him.”

“Sure.” Garibaldi hesitated, then went on, “Go easy on him, John. This did something to him. He looked…haunted, like I’ve never seen him before.”

“I will. Now go pick up your wife! She’ll wonder what’s keeping you!”

“Later.” He clicked off the connection and opened the waiting call. “Hey honey! How’d it go. Any luck finding her?” He listened for a moment, then said, “That’s a shame. Sure, I’ll be there at the gate to meet you. Mary missed you; she’s been saving up to buy you something. I’m not sure what. Be surprised, okay?” He smiled at her reply, closed the connection, and went downstairs to arrange for a groundcar to the port.

 

The ship landed on the end of a long polycrete strip. It was a private landing place, used by the Alliance for Presidential arrivals and departures, and craft on other special diplomatic missions. The five of them stood back, wind whipping at their hair, awaiting the disembarkation of the crew and passengers. Anilia had asked for, and been granted, permission to attend, although they had already gotten the news that Ker was dead. Michael had offered to fly his body, or what was left of it, to either Minbar or Centauri Prime, but Anilia had asked that his body be transported to the telepath homeworld, to be interred along with Lyta’s. Turlann accompanied the Centauri woman. They had become allies, if not friends, over the last few days, and he felt deeply sorry for her.

John Sheridan and Delenn were there, to welcome back Lennier and the other Rangers. Susan stood a little apart from them, waiting also. The door to the ship opened, the ramp extended slowly and quietly to the ground. The crew emerged first, standing to either side of the ramp, not disbursing, or leaving, just watching the opening. Maeve came out next, and reached back with an assisting hand to help Lennier out of the hatch. He walked slowly down the ramp, leaning only a little on the Ranger’s arm. When he reached the tarmac, he gently shrugged her off, and started forward.

Delenn’s eyes never left him, as if she was gauging his health from a distance, but John was watching Susan. She stood stiff, almost at attention, but like Delenn, her eyes were fixed on the approaching figures, or at least one of them. John reached over, and gave her a shove in the small of her back.

“Get down there. Go ahead, don’t make him walk all that way alone.”

She glanced back at her friend, nodded briefly, then started to walk briskly towards the ship. She reached him in only a few seconds, and the Rangers moved back, one of them catching Maeve’s arm and pulling her away from the two, allowing them some privacy.

They caught at each other’s hands, holding them enclosed between them, and touched foreheads in the Minbari greeting.

Susan said softly, “Welcome home.”

Lennier held her hands tighter. “I am glad to be home.” He shuddered, and said brokenly, “I wish I had never gone there. I have seen things I can never forget. They burned, Susan. The smallest ones flared up and guttered quickly, like the short, thin candles on David’s birthday cake. I see them when I close my eyes. I hear their screams.”

Ignoring the people watching, she put her arms around him and held him close for a moment. “I’m sorry you had to see that. You can tell me as much or as little as you need to about it. I’ll be here.”

He rested for a moment in her embrace, then said, “We’d better go.”

“Yes,” she replied. “Delenn is going to come down here if we don’t. She’s been impossible to deal with since we got the message you were on your way.”

Lennier smiled, “I will be glad to see her also.”

They walked slowly, arms around each other’s waists, more publicly together than they had ever allowed themselves to be. As they walked, the Rangers from the ship, and others who had appeared on the tarmac formed a line on either side of their path. Lennier jumped at the ‘snik’ of denn’boks extending. Looking down the path to where John and Delenn were standing, they saw that the Rangers had raised the fighting staffs and crossed them to form an arch under which they walked. As they passed, they heard the denn’boks retracting. The pikes closed behind them like a wave retreating from the shore.

 

“What are they doing?” asked John, puzzled. “It’s almost like a naval wedding procession.”

“It is the na’hel’cha, the ceremony of strength reborn. It is rarely performed, but it is a very old tradition among the Anla’Shok, dating back to the time of Valen,” answered Delenn, a strong tone of mixed awe and interest in her voice.

John shook his head and smiled. “Jeff Sinclair didn’t miss a trick, did he? I keep tripping over old Minbari traditions that have some basis in Earth customs. So what does it mean?”

“It is an affirmation of Susan’s leadership, indicating that she is truly Chosen to lead the Anla’Shok. There are only a few recorded instances of it being performed in the last thousand years.”

They watched in silence as the two approached. Maeve had taken up the position of honor guard behind them.

“So, is it because of Lennier, I mean, because they’re together?” asked John.

“I think not. Though her actions in his regard were viewed positively by the majority of Rangers, they did not all approve. It is more her actions afterwards; her coming back, resuming her training, her assumption of responsibility for them and to them. They sense she is one of their own.”

 

Susan wondered about the Ranger’s actions, but decided she’d wait to ask someone. She looked Lennier over, and asked, “I see you gathered a few more scars. Didn’t I tell you to stop that?”

“I sometimes have difficulty taking direction,” he said solemnly. “Had you not noticed?”

“Oh I’ve noticed all right. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He bowed his head slightly in assent.

“Will that hole in your headbone heal? It's quite the fashion statement.”

He looked at her in surprise. “It will take some time, but it should.” Keeping up the rhythm of her teasing, he went on, “I may keep it open, however.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I have often admired the decorations you wear in your ears. Minbari ears, alas, are not suitable for such adornment. It might be interesting to try something like it involving the headbone. You call them earrings, do you not? Perhaps a bone-ring?”

She punched his shoulder. “You are kidding me, right?”

“I am speaking in jest, but don’t injure me over it. I thought you wanted me to stop accumulating injuries.”

They were both laughing now, and the lines of Rangers couldn’t retain their serious expressions, and began to smile. They remained in place, however, and the ceremony continued until they had reached John and Delenn, Turlann and Anilia, and passed the last Ranger in line.

Delenn took a moment to give exactly the right kind of ritual greeting required, before abruptly embracing Lennier. “It makes the day bright to see you again, my friend,” she said, tears in her eyes.

Lennier, for his part, returned the embrace, rejoicing in the warm feelings unmarred by jealousy that flooded through him at her words. He returned John’s handshake, and bowed his head in greeting to Turlann. He spoke to Anilia directly, “I am sorry about Ker. He died with honour, fulfilling his stated purpose, to help other telepaths.

Anilia looked straight into his eyes, looking up slightly to meet them, and said, "Ker may have died with honour, but you are without honour. I fulfilled my part of our bargain; you did not. And now you never can. " She turned on her heel, and walked away from the group.

Susan started after her, fists clenched, a storm building in her eyes, but was caught by Turlann, who commented in sadness, "Leave her. It is her grief speaking. It will pass."

Delenn was watching Lennier, whose face was clouded with sadness and guilt. She put one hand on his arm, and said urgently, "You did all you could, Lennier. There is no dishonour in failing to keep the Centauri alive in such a situation. Any of you, all of you, could have died. It was a noble thing you were attempting, to rescue those children."

He looked back at her, his eyes filled with shame and misery, "Ah, but as I told you once long ago, if one does something right for the wrong reason, the entire outcome is tainted. Anilia is correct. My promise was made solely in order to obtain her agreement to come here. I never wanted to fulfill her request; I didn't even see how I could, and yet I told her I would."

Susan returned to the group, just in time to hear his last words. "She is not right about this, she's crazy! Vir told me she was useless to the resistance after her capture anyway, and probably not safe on the planet. She extracted that promise from you under duress, and she has no right to criticize your attempts to keep it. You might have been killed as well! What did she expect you to do? Stick with Ker the rest of his life, be some sort of personal bodyguard for the blasted man, wherever he went?"

Lennier had to smile at her vehemence, but the emotion did not reach his eyes. He went on, "I have a message, for you two, I believe." He nodded first to Delenn, then to John.

"I was with Lyta when she died, and she asked me to pass these words along, to her brothers." The others looked confused, and he continued. "I asked her who she meant, and she said 'Kosh…Kosh connects us. Sheridan, Delenn, myself, even G'Kar…all connected. All brothers."

"What was the message?" John asked urgently. He'd already received one message from beyond from Kosh. That had made him uncomfortable enough. He noticed Delenn had taken his arm, and moved closer to him. He put one arm around her.

Lennier looked as if he were focusing inward, remembering. His face was haunted, his eyes reflecting images of death. "She said: 'The long night is coming.' " He paused, as if trying to get the words exactly right. "Then she said, 'Though lovers be lost, love shall not.' " He looked directly at Delenn as he finished, "And death shall have no dominion."

His heart was stung with pity, and he kept his gaze on Delenn, whose eyes never left John's face. He wondered if she took comfort in Lyta's words. Susan and John exchanged glances, but Lennier didn't notice them. He watched Delenn; and both of them were lost in memories of past and future pain.

Turlann was watching Maeve. The human had visibly stiffened at Lennier's words. She stood just behind Lennier and Susan; at attention, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Turlann observed her jaw clench and her lips narrow into a thin, tight line. Her eyes, their expression unreadable, remained fixed on Susan, as they had been ever since she had emerged from the flyer. _No good will come of this_ , Turlann thought to himself. _No good at all._

Susan, who had been lost in thought for a moment, spoke distractedly, "It's a poem, an Earth poem." The others looked at her. "Those last lines, they're from a poem. Why would Kosh be using Earth poetry to communicate? Why not the usual Vorlon obscurities?"

"Perhaps because he wished to make sure his meaning was clear? Or because his connection to Lyta is weak, and was further weakened by her condition, and he used what words he could find in her mind?" suggested Delenn.

John said, "The message might have come from Lyta herself. She was badly injured, dying. She might have imagined the whole thing, and dredged up the poem from her subconscious."

Lennier held up one hand, and spoke. "I cannot say whether Kosh was speaking through her from beyond the Rim. Who knows what the First Ones remain capable of? All I can say is this, when Lyta died, her expression changed, like she was seeing something none of us could see. She reached out, and moved her hand as if she was stroking something." He hesitated, then finally added, "Zack was there with us at the end. He swore to me later that as she spoke, as she died; all he could hear, louder than the crackle of flames or muted explosions, louder than her voice or mine...was the sound of beating wings."

 

 

Epilogue: Mars

 

Zack was lying on the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling. His leg was elevated, and his hip was raised up on bolsters. It felt heavy with all regen-packs stuffed around the joint, which had been practically crushed by the falling beam at the school. The burns were mostly healed; they still itched, but he was used to the feeling now, and ignored it for the most part. The docs told him he'd be in the hospital another few weeks, and would probably always have trouble with the hip joint. The surgery had cleaned out the worst of the damage, and the packs were stimulating bone and muscle re-growth, but it had been bad, real bad; and it looked like he wouldn't be running any marathons when he finally got out. He heard the door open, and didn't even look over as he said, "Hey, Chief."

Garibaldi entered the room easily and took the chair between the bed and the window. It was a high class hospital, the best on Mars. Edgars Industries was covering all the costs, of course. Zack had been on the payroll, even though the rescue attempt at the school hadn't been sanctioned. Besides, it was Zack.

“So, how are we today?” asked Garibaldi lightly. He tried to come every day, but he’d missed a few this week. He’d been busy, cleaning up the mess left behind from the school hostage situation, and finishing up the negotiations with the two governments about the telepath emigrations. Once he’d agreed to provide transportation, and everyone had absorbed the pictures of the devastation and death at the school and beyond, the agreements had been quick and relatively painless. Everyone but the good folks at PsiCorp were pleased with the compromise. Adult telepaths were free to choose, and could revisit their choice once a year, on the anniversary of Lyta’s death and the end of the siege. Underage telepaths would be educated by PsiCorp, with their parents’ approval and oversight, and would have the choice to emigrate beginning at fourteen years of age. Parents who wished to relocate with their telepathic children to the new homeworld were welcome.

“ _We_ are nothing. _I_ am the same as I was the last time you stopped by.” Zack’s tone was sour and uncompromising.

Garibaldi sighed, “It’s just going to take a while, Zack. You know that…but you’re going to be okay.”

Zack turned his head to look directly at Garibaldi. “I need to know something, Chief.”

“Anything.”

“What did Lyta do for you…that day, after the attack at the studio? What was the deal you two had?”

Garibaldi rubbed the back of his neck, and said reluctantly, “I guess you deserve to know. When Bester set me up all those years ago, and programmed me to betray Sheridan, he left a little gift in my brain.”

Zack turned towards his friend, then groaned as the weight hit his hip. “What kind of gift?”

“He put in a block that kept me from going after him, for making him pay for what he’d done. Lyta took it out. She promised to, back on the station, in return for my help setting up the bank accounts and investments that would fund the homeworld. It’s taken a long while, but she kept her part of the bargain. I’m free, Zack. And that bastard is going to pay.”

Zack looked grim, “You going after PsiCorp as well? Or just Bester?”

Garibaldi grinned, “Might take out as many as I can. It’ll be fun.”

“I want in.”

“What?” Garibaldi said in astonishment. “Why?”

“They’re responsible for what happened…if they hadn’t put the hit on Lyta, the rogues wouldn’t have taken that school. And you’ll never convince me that the first explosion while we were inside negotiating wasn’t the damn Corps butting in. They killed her, or as good as, and I want them taken down.”

Garibaldi nodded slowly, “I guess I can see that. I’m still not sure how or when, Zack…”

“When can wait until I’m up and around. You figure out the how, just include me in on it.” Looking back up at the ceiling, he went on, “Michael?”

Garibaldi answered, “What?”

“I want to be a full partner in this…no leaving me out, no secrets. I’m tired of secrets. That all right with you?” Zack spoke firmly, his tone brooking no dissent.

“Yeah…yeah, it’s okay with me. Glad to have you.” Garibaldi still looked disconcerted, “I’ve never worked with a partner before.”

“First time for everything. Now get outta here. I’m tired, and wanna get some sleep.”

 

Alfred Bester was picking his way through the burned and shattered debris that had once been the largest PsiCorp School on Mars. Fastidiously reaching down to pick up the occasional blackened object, he would shook off the fine grey ash to identify them. Occasionally an item would constrict his heart and bring a lump to his throat—a tiny shoe, or a child’s toy. He wasn’t really looking for anything in particular; rather he was looking for someone, someone he had been told might be there.

Finally he spotted her, in one of the less damaged rooms, through a door hanging loose on its hinges. It had been a sleeping room, the small beds in rows still discernable under the layer of soot. A teenage girl, looking to be about 14 or 15 years old, was rooting around under one of the beds, pulling out items and examining them before tossing them away.

“May I be of assistance?” he asked from the doorway. “What are you looking for ?”

The girl looked up from her task. “A teddy bear, actually…” She saw who it was, and sprang to her feet. “Mr. Bester! Sir! I was just…”

“Looking for a teddy bear. So you said. Aren’t you a little old for bears?” He smiled gently at her.

“It’s Emily Marshall’s. She’s only six, and she cries herself to sleep every night wanting it. I thought maybe I could find it.”

“I see. Very resourceful of you to give your teachers the slip and get all the way over here by yourself.”

She smiled, “Thank you, sir.” She gestured around the room with blackened hands. “I don’t think I’ll ever find it. This was her bed, I think, but everything’s ruined. What isn’t burnt is covered with chemical foam. She’ll have to do without it, I guess.”

“Perhaps we can stop on our way back to your dormitory and pick her up a new one. Not the same, I know, but it might help.”

The girl beamed, “I’m sure it would, sir. Thank you.”

Bester came over to where she was standing. “Were you here when it happened?”  
She looked down at the floor. “Yes. I’ll never forget it. It was horrible.” Her voice hardened. “I still can’t believe it was our own people who did this. I’m glad they all died. Glad! And that evil woman, too!”

“Yes, Miss Alexander. I knew her, you know. A long time ago.” Bester sighed. He’d tried to claim Lyta’s body, but Edgars Industries had shipped it off to that homeworld of hers for burial before he’d even filed the forms. He reached over and tipped the girl’s head up so she was looking into his eyes. “When did you come to this school?”

“I was about ten, I think. I spent the first years at a Corps school on Earth, after I tested positive for the gift. My parents took me in for testing when I was quite young. Later I was transferred here.”

“Do you remember your parents at all?”

“Not really,” she looked at him defiantly and said, “I don’t need to. The Corps is Mother…”

He finished the aphorism. “The Corps is Father.” Smiling, he touched the long dark waves of her hair. “I have plans to avenge this atrocity, you know.”

“But Lyta Alexander and all the rogues died in the fire,” she said, confused.

“There were others involved. Those who supported her cause, who helped her. They should pay for what happened to our brothers and sisters, to our children.” His eyes flashed. Then he smiled again, still stroking her hair, “My daughter would have been about your age.”

“What happened to her?”

“She was never born.” His voice was soft, but clearly indicated no further explanation would be forthcoming. “Would you like to help me? Help me obtain justice?”

She stood up as straight as she could. She was a petite girl and only reached to Bester’s shoulder. “I will do whatever I can, sir.”

“Good,” he said. “I imagine you will be of great assistance to me, Deborah. Now let’s go; we still need to pick up a bear for young Emily.”

 

 

 _**And death shall have no dominion—Dylan Thomas** _

 

… _When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,  
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;  
Though they go mad they shall be sane,  
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;  
Though lovers be lost love shall not;  
And death shall have no dominion._


End file.
